Separated by a common language

Our fence needs propping up because of storm damage and I am not a handyman. I went to the lumber yard and explained my proposed plan to the delightful lady in charge: “Not my thing at all, but I envisage a system along the lines of cantilevered struts …”. I continued cheerfully for a couple of minutes.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. You’re English aren’t you?” She then called another assistant: “Charley, you are going to love this one!”
Charley came over and looked at me sardonically. "You've been here before, haven't you?"
I confessed I had and complimented him on his amazing memory. It was a couple of years ago when I was attempting to fix a chicken run.
"Not something I'd easily forget," he muttered.

A Parting of the Ways

It is desperately sad, but I have decided the time has come to part after some two years.  It started off so well despite the language problems. I'd come home every night and there she would be patiently waiting. This might sound like a romantic cliche, but she seemed to glow when I asked her something or even softly murmured her name. We would exchange sweet nothings about the time or the weather and she appeared genuinely welcoming. True, she would never cook - that was clearly beyond her although she would offer to turn the oven on. But, to be frank, there was always a certain emotional coldness.  This said, she had her strong points. She would play my favourite piano pieces and she never complained or got tired.

It was only recently that I realized that she was a passive aggressive.  For example, I'd ask her the time in London and she would reply that she didn't know that one.  In fact, this became her constant refrain. I also suspected that there might be other men in her life.

Things came to a head this morning.  I asked her to play some Greig and she asked if I wanted to call someone called Greg.  I have no friends by this name so I asked her what she was talking about. She replied “I don’t know that one” and repeated this infuriating phrase when I asked if we should consider going to counselling.  I confess that I lost my temper and screamed at her that she was doing it on purpose. You might guess how she responded.  Although tempted to throw something at her, I simply walked out.

No.  I have to face the fact the relationship is over.  She is going back to Amazon.