Jacob Lawrence, The Lovers (1946)

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The ups and downs wore you down to the point that you became fearful. Where "ups and downs" means more than the peaks and valleys of her moodiness. Rather, it was the continual dynamic of withdrawal-as-punishment. That peculiar passive-aggression where she would walk away, or drive home, or hang up the phone, or cross her arms and turn her back, or refuse to speak to you, often over the pettiest things, sometimes so petty that they came as complete surprises. So that much of your life went into cajoling her to return to friendship. Then when it was especially important to her there was no satisfying that craving for vengeance until you'd been broken, preferably to the point of tears. Cross her and pay and pay and pay and pay and pay.

You eventually revolted against her disloyalty. You wouldn't have been able to word it this way then. But that's what it was. There was a Fourth of July which exemplified what you mean by "disloyalty" in its peculiar petty sordidness. While demanding that you meet her she lied to you, leaving false messages of her whereabouts, so that after taking the chance of being fired from work by leaving early you were unable to find her. She didn't care about that. She only cared about seeing the fireworks, and if you missed them, or you got fired, that was your worry, not hers.

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