The Heart of The Matter
Even though I like to consider myself an understanding person, which is a self-assessment that just caused everyone who knows even the slightest bit about me to burst into peals of scornful laughter, I see where Sonny is coming from here. I know, I can't believe that I typed that either, but really: if my significant other did something outrageously hurtful (like cheat on me) or unspeakably offensive (like occasionally adopting a Rosie Perez accent and spackling cosmetics on by the truckload) and then explained it away as being the actions of a split personality, I wouldn't know what to make of it. I like to think that unwavering support would be one of my reactions somewhere along the line, but it would probably follow reactions like Shouting "What does this look like, a freaking soap opera?!" and staring, wordlessly, in confusion and texting my friends "Can you believe this lame-ass excuse?!"
So I'm not quibbling with Sonny's reluctance to believe that there is a Connie, or even some of his anger.
What I am quibbling with is what a freaking child he is, always and forever.
Sonny: You went and banged my enemy! On my birthday, no less.
He doesn't have many linguistic skills, but his knack for filling a single sentence with that much self-absorption and grossness is pretty impressive.