The Clouds Committee: "My Partner Never Listens to Me—What Should I Do?"

The Clouds Committee was in full session, seated around Sibyl's enormous kitchen table, ready to dispense another round of expert advice. This week's guest, Richard, slumped in his chair like a man who had long since given up hope. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, his shoulders permanently hunched, and his hair—what little of it remained—was in a state of permanent disarray, as though he'd spent the morning pulling at it in frustration.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "My wife never listens to me," he said, his voice flat with resignation. "I try to talk to her, but she just talks right over me. Or moans. Or complains. She never stops. I could tell her the house was on fire, and she'd still be going on about how I left a teaspoon in the sink. I don't know what to do."

The committee exchanged knowing glances.

"Easy!" Olive declared, leaning forward with a smirk. "Find another woman."

Bert choked on his tea. "What? He narrowed his eyes. He and Olive were engaged, but her flirtatious nature had him in a permanent state of jealousy.

Olive waved a hand. "Oh, calm down, Bertie. I'm only joking. Probably."

Alf, meanwhile, stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. "Now, Richard, have you considered speaking louder? If your wife drowns you out, get a megaphone."

"I tried that once," Richard muttered. "But then she gave me the silent treatment for a whole day."

"Sounds peaceful," Bert mused.

Richard shook his head. "Oh, no, she still sighed and huffed the whole time. Like a human kettle. Drove me mad."

Sibyl cleared her throat. "Honestly, the best way to handle this is to sit her down and have a proper conversation. Explain how you feel."

"Oh, lovely idea," Olive said, rolling her eyes. "Look at the man, Sibyl! He's past conversation. He obviously hasn't got anything interesting to say. That's the real problem."

Richard nodded weakly. "I tried talking to her last night. Halfway through, she started scrolling on her phone. I don't think she even noticed when I left the room."

Bert grinned. "So, you've got two choices: one, you just stop talking altogether and see how long it takes her to notice. Or two, you answer everything she says with 'Mmm' and 'Yes, dear' while secretly thinking about football."

Richard perked up slightly. "I like that. Football is great. Did you see Arsenal's last match?"

Sibyl frowned. "Sorry, what did you say? Something about 'Mmm' and 'Yes'. No, it won't work. It'll just make things worse."

Alf snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Richard, my lad, if she's always moaning and complaining, start making it sound like she's agreeing with you. When she says, 'You never do anything right,' say, 'I know! And I'm so lucky to have you to tell me!' If she says, 'You don't listen!' say, 'Exactly! And that's why I need you to repeat everything.'"

Richard blinked. "Would that make her stop?"

"Probably not," Olive admitted. "But it'll confuse her, and that's nearly as good."

"And if they still don't listen?" Bert asked.

Sibyl shrugged. "Then maybe she just doesn't want to."

Silence fell over the table. Richard paled. "Wait. Are you saying… my wife chooses not to listen to me?"

"Well," Olive said slowly, stirring her tea with deliberate care, "that's a question only you can answer, darling. Like I said; maybe you haven't got anything interesting to say. Most men don't. All you talk about is… oh, I don't know… football, the price of petrol, and how much better things were 'back in your day.' It's a wonder women don't nod off mid-sentence."

Richard's mouth opened and closed. "I don't just talk about that…"

"Oh, of course not," Olive continued, grinning. "There's also the occasional riveting discussion about whether the postman is late again and how much that weird noise in the car definitely needs looking at but won't be."

Bert, sensing danger, tried to intervene. "Now hang on, Olive, that's not fair—"

"Oh, don't you start, Bertie," she cut in, fixing him with a knowing look. "You're no better. Half the time, you're ranting about someone 'looking at me funny' when all I'm doing is ordering coffee."

Bert scowled, mumbling, "That barista was up to something. Lucky I didn't thump him."
Richard slumped further in his chair, rubbing his temples. "So what you're saying is… my wife doesn't listen because I'm boring?"

Seeing the man's existential crisis unfolding, Sibyl finally took pity on him. "No, Richard. We're saying that maybe she's used to tuning you out because she thinks she already knows what you'll say. Try surprising her. Say something unexpected, and change the pattern. It might snap her out of it."

"Like what?" Richard asked, desperate.

Alf smirked. "Next time she asks you where you've put something, just say, 'Under the floorboards, next to the body,' and see if that gets a reaction."

Richard slumped again. "So, to recap: talk louder, say nothing, agree with everything, or confuse her into submission."

"Exactly!" Olive said brightly. "You're catching on!"

Richard sighed. "I think I need to lie down."

As he trudged toward the door, Alf muttered, "Do you think we helped him?"

Bert shrugged. "Dunno. I stopped listening."
​
And with that, another wildly unhelpful advice session came to a close.