They say we never hear what others say, only what we hear them say. That when Janine commented on your tie and I thought she liked it too much she meant to say “I like your tie. It’s a cool color.” That when you took the compliment with a smiling “thanks” you only said something like gratitude. You didn’t say “fuck me.”
They say never to trust someone who wears pink: that they’re too extravagant, that they love life a little too much, that they think they’re too
credible of wearing pink—and thereby everything else. That I shouldn’t have gone out with you.
They say that Janine can’t see the difference between blue and green. That’s what her friends say. “She’s colorblind, isn’t that funny? Not many
girls are colorblind.” Did I hear wrong? Did they mean to say “there’s no reason she said she liked a tie she couldn’t see.” That she didn’t say more than a lie about your wardrobe.
They say I’m naive. They say “Dante’s a catch that can’t be caught.” “You should’ve known this would happen.” I thought they were just saying
they didn’t like your shirt because it was pink.
They say old married couples end up dressing the same. I thought it was cute that we matched, you in your pink button down and me with my pink
scarf. I thought your tie didn’t match. I told you so but you heard me say “change.” I didn’t say that.
They say men are afraid of commitment, afraid of landing only one lady and sticking to her. You say you don’t want to be an old married couple.
You say you want to be “a hot young pair of coordinated, dapper dressers.” I punched you for saying that. You were mocking me because we were both wearing pink.
They say people change. They say that favorite colors change. They say that when you said “I’m sorry” you might’ve meant it. Fuck, it was hard to
tell. It wasn’t only the tie.
Margaret B. is an English Creative Writing Major at Gordon College in Wenham, Massachusetts and published author in Gordon College’s Vox Populi (2017, 2018) and The Idiom (2018). She aims to write what is new.