You treat me bad, you make me weep and more, … you drive me mad. That’s what my girlfriend says. And apparently she knows this place couples go to. It’s a place somewhere underground called a “fight club”. And couples go there for couple therapy. They punch each other with words in the comfort of a supporting crowd. It’s supposedly a way to release any tension built up over your relationship. The ultimate test to really, actually, test the strength of any true, loving relationship. You treat me baaaaad. Is what she’s implying, looking at me, screaming. I’m completely overwhelmed. Looking around at the crowd, this very, very, intensely in-sane crowd. What are we doing here? Why did we come to this place? What started with a punch in the soul, finished with a punch in the head. We shouldn’t have come here. Her words keep hitting me from all sides, though. Apparently I’m a dirty rat who can’t keep any promises. I’ve always been a loser, and I’ll stay that way until I step up my game. She looks immensely beautiful and sad. I’ll be gone by tomorrow – no more pain, no more sorrow. That’s what she says. And the final straw. I drag her out of the place. That stupid couple’s therapy place, where no one ever learned that the Other isn’t an extension of your own identity, but rather just someone you felt mentally attracted to – someone of which you decided in an instant they might be worth passing this whole difficult life experience thing with. Maybe that is why my famous best friend is always single. Not knowing how to lovingly treat himself, let alone another. On our way out through the exit door, we pass another couple, coming in. This time it’s the guy who persuaded the girl. Fools.
Director of music video: Stéphane Marchetti (and produced by Playprod)
This flash fiction story was written after being inspired by the music video and song “Farewell My Love” of Charles Pasi.