“I don’t know what you’re so tired about…you haven’t done anything all day; you didn’t have any classes, or anything.”

It’s two in the morning, and it’s unreasonable to expect that George wouldn’t be exhausted. But Martha is digging at him for being tired as an existential condition. George hasn’t achieved anything more than middling academic success. He is a tenured professor at a small college but hasn’t distinguished himself enough to even become head of his department.

“I like your anger. I think that’s what I like about you most… your anger. You’re such a…such a simp! You don’t even have the…the what?...”

George helpfully completes Martha’s sentence for her by offering, “guts?” (14). Martha’s insult is strange, calling him both angry and cowardly. George’s pleasant assistance in offering the correct word is a part of the anger that Martha appreciates. He often responds to her aggression with a passive feigned cooperation that enrages her. At first, it makes Martha look like the abuser in the relationship, but over time, it becomes clear that they are locked in an equal battle. Martha likes to push him until he lashes out. George likes to withhold that release from her, and fury has become a replacement for excitement and passion.

“I swear…if you existed I’d divorce you.”

Martha aims her insults like poison arrows. The aggression between her and George is like endless foreplay that never results in anything that is pleasurable or releases tension.