She’s having problems at home. She asked me, “When are you going to move out?”

“As soon as I’m ready to.”

“When will you be ready to?”

“When I’m financially able to.”

“Why aren’t you financially able to now?”

She knows how little I make, and that I couldn’t possibly afford an apartment on my own. I was sitting at work, though, so I couldn’t say that. I’ve said it many times before anyhow. “Because I don’t need to, and I want to invest my money right now,” I said.

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

I was truly confused. “What is?”

“That you don’t need to.”

I couldn’t believe she said that. I mean, obviously everything could be taken as a matter of opinion, but frankly, whether or not I need to move out is pretty much fact. If she had said that she needed me to, that would be a different story. But she didn’t say it like that. She never says it like that. It’s always my problem, not hers. “I don’t need to. I have my home. You have yours. I don’t need to move out,” I said matter-of-factly.

Hastily she replied, “Well, goodbye,” in a tone that told me I was being an asshole.

“Goodbye,” I said confidently, knowing that if she wanted me to be an asshole, I should just accept it, because neither hell nor high water could convince her to change her mind.