The Television

The Television

We’ve become pretty close recently. You could almost say she’s reliant. I mean, we’ve always been tight… but she only ever really bothered with me on Sunday evenings and Monday nights. The rest of the week she seemed busy, happily getting on with her own life. Now though it’s daily. And yet, despite turning me on, she’s not really that into it. Tbh, it's almost absentminded the way she reaches for me - lazily pressing my buttons. Naturally I respond, who wouldn’t? But it’s like she’s only ever half watching and never truly listening.

Or maybe it’s just that I can’t keep her attention. And when I do I seem to make her angry or sad, unless I choose to skirt around the truth.  Sure, she wants to know the facts. But, equally, she’d much rather some trivial nonsense. The kind of stuff that needs minimal concentration - where she’s fed the laughs, given easy feels or a storyline that feels a million miles from the here and now. Familiarity, she’ll take that too, happy to hear the same old story over and over again. It’s like she doesn’t have the energy to try anything new. Pity, because they say you’ll find the magic outside of your comfort zone. Still, I can give her all of that - it’s kind of my forte. For truth be told, mindless drivel is my go-to. It’s not that I’m being hard on myself, it’s just that you’ve really got to delve deep to find anything with much meaning.  

You could, I suppose, compare hanging out with me to the early part of a drinks party - you know, when it’s all small talk and people flitting around the room - everyone a bit bored and waiting for something/anything good to happen. And yet, at the same time, happy to be amongst friends. Perhaps that’s what I am, a familiar face – part of the furniture, you could say – someone to turn to, now that she’s feeling more alone.