Pet Peeve: How I Feel About Some Men Who Think I Owe Them Anything Including An Explanation On Any Given Day

This is basically just a more specific iteration of others wanting every FUCKING bit of your soul. The little crumbs at the bottom of the toaster and the microscopic ones that fell on the floor.

One day, I was going to the local chicken joint. I had just called in the order so I stopped by the grocery store next door before I went to pick up my hot-and-ready chicken meal. In The Meantime called me and I foolishly answered.  By that time, I was leaving the grocer's mart and was planning to wait in the car for my food to finally be ready. The local chicken joint takes 30 minutes, at least, for every order. So, I'm sitting in the car, scrambling for things to talk about with someone I don't care about. While doing so I decided I would snack from the bag of potato chips I had just purchased. He asked what I was eating so I told him. Finally, I've exhausted my 30 minutes and go to pick up my food. I told him to hold on, but he could hear background noise and whatnot. No biggie, right? Wrong! He asked what I was doing, again. I told him, again. He then proceeds to act as though I need his permission for anything in my life. None of my girl friends have ever asked me all these questions. He says, "If you're buying food now, why were you just eating chips?! At this point, I'd be hard pressed to figure out why the fuck does it matter to him. So, I replied: Look, father, is this my money being spent or yours? Is this my body consuming all this bullshit or yours? Got dammit! Why would he think I would have to explain anything to him? I don't take kindly to questions that are of no one else's concern. Most especially, his ass. Ugh.
 Same dude, who has a girlfriend to pester at this point, by the way. (why won't he go pester her?)
One fine morning, he texts: what are you doing? I told him I was reading a book.
*he is not a reader*
He asks which book, so I told him the book. 
****Strange the Dreamer, in case you're wondering. ****
Then, he comes BACK and asks, "What is it about?" Now I don't suffer non-readers gladly when it comes to talking about what I'm reading.

For real, what the fuck does it matter? I really want to know. People do not like to see/know about others enjoying a solitary activity without pestering that person. Why?

I told him it was difficult to explain, which it actually was difficult to explain, but I did anyway. He then calls. I ignore the call. He leaves a voicemail. 

THAT pissed me off. What the hell do you have to say that you need to leave a fucking voicemail, sir? Against my better judgment, I listen to the voicemail. On it, he tells me to stop ignoring his call; that he was calling to hear about my book.

Here are my biggest issues with him in this situation, not in any particular order.
1. If I told him, FROM THE BEGINNING, that I was engaged in an activity, why on God's ever-warming earth would he think I need to stop what I'm enjoying to explain it to him?
2. Why would he assume he's more important than what I'm ALREADY doing to talk about NOTHING (let's be crystal clear about that part) with him?
3. Did he text to, I don't know, ask if I felt like talking? Oh, no, he didn't, did he? Well, then, how could he know if I even wanted to talk on the phone before leaving a pissy voicemail?
    This is a real thing. Sometimes, especially depending on the person, I don't feel like talking on the phone. I'm not someone who hates talking on the phone, but some people take more out of me than others.

    I have given up on picking up the phone to advise the person on the other line,  that I don't feel like talking. That always turns out to be a disaster. It's inevitably met with: Well, tell me what's wrong. Why don't you feel like                  talking? Well... okay. I guess... if you don't want to tell me what's going on...
    You want to know what's going on?! Nothing! I was fucking BUSY when you fucking called! Orrrrrr, I just don't want to talk to you. That's it. It's not any bigger than that.
   
However, even if something were going on, what the fuck gives anyone the right to think that I owe them my secrets, or any details, of my life? Where do people get this idea that you have to tell them everything you experience, big or small? I tell you what I want you to know about me because I want to give that sort of access to my life. You can't think you can guilt it out of me and that is how a closer bond is forged. It is NOT. Bah!