Jessica, I think that you're somewhat insensitive to how you make me feel.
You're not my girlfriend honey. I'm entirely insensitive to how I make you feel, because I don't give a damn. Yep. Fact.
Just because I don't want to talk about you kids, weekend, favorite color, last bowel movement, and so forth doesn't make me mean. Nor am I insensitive because I don't care about the perplexing curvature of this morning's poop.
If anything - you're insensitive for failing to realize just how much I detest you, and you're continued insistence on telling me idiotic details of your existence until my brain becomes pudding. Details that I did put up with until you got all fecal about it, and I finally protested.
No one gives a shit about your poop. Fact.