Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore

“And I can’t get him outta this house…” (excerpt)

It is physically impossible to spare someone else’s feelings.

I sat on the balcony of Samantha’s apartment, waiting for her to return from the laundry room, desperately trying to figure out how I was going to get out of this whole Newbie thing with minimal drama.  I tried to create scenarios in which I could fabricate a clever claim about how I was just not as ready for this whole dating thing as I had originally thought, or seem like I was acting in his best interest due to the fact that I would merely destroy him over time anyway, and he was lucky to walk away before it was too late.

But as I sat there in the fading sunlight, with a bipolar Himalayan sleeping in my lap (apparently I was on the VIP list that day as far as Bubba was concerned, as I had not suffered so much as a scratch since arriving), I realized there was truly no way to get out of this without breaking the Newbie’s heart.  That, in and of itself, was an issue, given we’d only been testing out this coupling for a few days.

Why did I have to end up the bad guy? Why is it that one cannot ‘try out’ a date for awhile to see if there’s an atraction without someone getting hurt? I knew I would have to take the high road and be as brutally honest as I could with him, but was bothered by the impending fall out.

Scott would call, wondering why I had been so mean.  Chris would begin to act uncomfortable around me.  Skippy, though, he’d have seen it coming all along.  It reminded me of this hot, younger, puppy-esque guy I had once dated, and Skippy’s prediction, back six years ago: “You’re gonna destroy this kid.”

I was technically doing the Newbie a favor.  I was gonna tell it like it was, so that he could be free to pursue his happy little fairy tale elsewhere, where it would be more appreciated. This was a good thing, right?


Samantha busted through the door with her arms wrapped around a sky-high pile of clothing.  She walked through the living room (barely pausing to dump the load on the couch) and headed outside to the deck.

“Dude,” I said. “I gotta do it.  Quick, easy and painless.  For me at least.”

“Like a fuckin’ Band Aid,” she said, smiling.  “You gotta let me watch.”


September 16, 2008 - Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , , ,

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