Stupidity at it's best

"The orange is sick isn't it?" I have to think a bit. I don't want to get "the look" or cause a scene. The last time i disagreed or said something inappropriate a vase flew past my head, and crashed into a bunch of triangle crystal pieces. Not to be out done, I returned the favor but with marble not crystal.
"Yea it's great" i say.
" Shit it's more than great. It looks mean doesn't it? Like it's gonna tear up the road." "Oh yea it looks ferocious, like an animal!! ha ha!!"
I'm hoping that he will catch the sarcasm but doesn't. He thinks I'm serious. This is the biggest mistake. "Yea i can totally do this. Have you seen anyone driving this car around in orange? Fuck no!! Look at the bull on the screen it just lights up."

I'm surrounded by pretentious salesmen trying to pretend like they don't care if they make a sale or not. They are utterly desperate but so is he. They've already pinned me as the gold digger. Any girl of my age seen with a man of his age could be nothing but. They were right to an extent. I've known him way before the bull. Just three years back he was driving a piece of shit and living in a apartment that reeked of mildew. I didn't care. He was easy on the eyes, caring, and patient. It was all a facade. After years and years it all unravelled. He wants to play "the game" with these guys. He says "I'm going to think about it." We drive home. I stare past the window look at the palm trees and beach it's beautiful but, i wish i was somewhere else with someone else. "Hey! Hey!" he says. "What's going on? Aren't you stoked about the car? Why do you always have to do this? Why are you so serious all the time?"
He didn't know i was keeping secrets, he didn't care just as long as i was agreeable and looked pretty sitting next to him. He didn't know how dead i was inside because of him and how stuck i felt.
"Yea the car is awesome. Why didn't you get it?"
He says "I'm going to have them eating out of my hand. They're gonna bring down the price. I can tell. They really want to sell it. Shit that car is so sick!! Fucking sick!!"
I can't bring myself to say it but i do. He needs it " Yea its sick." What 35 year old man says "sick" apparently this one. He needs this car. I know the reason behind it. He needs to feel wanted, noticed, and accepted by these shiteous people in this fucking town. He needs to have the blonde with fake breasts staring and noticing him. I know that's what he wants and he's going to get it. I know that it doesn't mean shit. I know that the blonde will talk him up, but i also know that it's for the car not him. I really use to love him without the car and the things. It's all gone now, dried up. I didn't belong to him anymore. I feel bad for him. I feel bad for his insecurities that drive him to such things.

I make our not so perfect dinner in the perfect kitchen, overlooking the perfect pool, with the perfect dog, and the perfect matching leather couches. We watch some variation of CSI. I hate these shows but he's content, so i sit and watch. His unnatural happiness is now comprised of what sits down stairs in his garage. I look at him he's smiling, not at me at the T.V. He isn't really smiling at what he's watching. He's smiling at the idea of what people now think of him. How am i going to get out of this? I think. How the fuck do i get myself out of this shit storm.