From a Guys View

uys View

  By Douglas Smith

  Copyright 2012 by Douglas Smith

  All rights reserved

  From A Guys View

  This one is for the ladies that constantly ask “Why are men such assholes.” Imagine for a moment if you will that you’re a guy. You are setting at a nice restaurant with your girl, it’s your anniversary and you wanted to take her someplace special to celebrate. Suddenly you see the discontented frown and you know what’s coming next. Mentally you brace yourself and she makes her first cutting comment for the night, possibly about some other woman’s dress, possibly about the fact that the food is taking too long. But of course it won’t end there, it never does. The night drags on, and every mistake you have ever made in your entire life seems to come up, again! All you wanted to do was take the woman you have spent all this time with out for a nice meal. You wanted to see her smile again, but all she ever does anymore is bitch and moan about something.

  You love her, you care about her, but you just can’t take it anymore. It’s like nothing you do is good enough, you can’t please her regardless of what you do. Quietly you finish out the evening and drive her home, all the while battling with these thoughts. Because no matter how much she complains you still love her, you still care about her. Then, as you pull up to her house and in the cold glare of the street lamp you see the emptiness in her eye’s that was at one time filled with life and joy, and you know what you have to do.

  “Wait a sec,” you say, after she kisses you good night, and starts to exit the car. She let’s go of the handle and places her hands calmly in her lap. There is a smile on her lips, you know what you are about to say is going to come as a complete surprise. As far as she is concerned everything is perfect with the world. You want to stop the words from coming out of your mouth, you try to still your lips, but you keep seeing that unguarded look from moments before. Those empty lifeless eye’s, you know she is miserable with you. Even if she tells herself she is happy.

  “I love you,” you say, wishing that it weren’t true, wishing with all that is in you that you secretly hated her, but you really do love her. “More than I can possibly explain, but I don’t think it’s enough. We aren’t working out.” She gives you the look of surprised hurt you were expecting, and her eyes begin to well with tears. She shakes her head, denies understanding, but she does. You want to take her hand, find some way to make it easier, but there is no way.

  The tears are flowing now, she looks as if she is going to slap you, or call you a bastard. You almost wish she would. Instead silently, with complete dignity she gets out of the car, and walks away. But you see her shoulders shaking, she is crying.

  You think of going after her, maybe telling her you were wrong, you didn’t mean it, but you know that it’s too late for that. Besides you weren’t wrong, and you did mean it.

  You start up your car, it’s a newer model, no roaring engine settling down into a rumbling purr, and instead you can barely even hear the stupid thing. You drive home in complete silence, your mind is numb, and you can’t really believe that those words came from your mouth.

  You open your door, the phone is already ringing. “Hello?”

  “You son of a bitch, I hate you. I gave you two years of my life and you throw me away like a piece of trash. I hope you rot in hell!” You try to speak, try to tell her that no, that’s not the way it is, that you were tired of being made to feel like shit, like you could never please her. All you wanted was to make her happy. But, the phone goes dead, and then you know, you really know it’s over.

  You walk to your window, and open the shades and stare up at the dark sky. The clouds are covering the few stars that the city lights don’t overawe. There isn’t even a moon to stare at, none of those romantic ideal’s that the old movies give us to turn to are up to the task at the moment. Nothing is going to fill the yawning chasm inside of your soul.

  A couple of weeks pass, and you allow yourself to become absorbed in life. You don’t stop, you don’t think. You won’t let yourself, because if you do your mind will go back to that night, and the wound in your soul will begin to ache again. You haven’t seen her since your anniversary, haven’t spoken to her, you haven’t really spoken to anyone to be honest. That’s just too much for you at the moment. Instead you bide your time alone, keeping busy.

  Then, one day you’re at the grocery store, you hear that all too familiar voice. There she is, arm in arm with some guy you have never seen before, perusing steaks. There is a bottle of wine and a loaf of French bread in her little hand basket already. That was always your special meal with her. The one you two mad together when you just need a little time with one another. He leans down and whispers something in her ear and she laughs delightedly. They walk to the checkout counter together, she never even saw you.

  This is probably a good thing, because if she had she would not have recognized the bearded guy with disheveled hair who suddenly looked as if he were going to be sick right there in the chips and junk food aisle.

  That didn’t take very long. You think to yourself, but it’s just a surface thought, in reality you’re wondering if she had been seeing him all along. And if not, did she have her eye on him? In all that time you were together was she secretly thinking about some other guy? You were completely loyal to her, even in your thoughts, but she had already been with another man. One way or another!

  You quickly grab the rest of your groceries and check-out, when you exit the store you don’t look up, you don’t want to risk seeing them again, instead you quickly cross the parking lot, secretly hoping a car will blare its horn just before slamming into you, but unfortunately you make it to your car safely.

  You drive home, with the image playing over and over again, hour after hour, day after day you see him leaning in whispering in her ear. You hear her laughter again and again. Suddenly it’s as if the film in the movie projector in your mind breaks. You stop thinking, the world stops being real, your just floating from one day to the next. Everything seems a little hazy too you.

  How long has things been like this? You aren’t really sure. All you really remember clearly is that day at the supermarket. You look around yourself, your setting in you apartment, it’s a mess. The television is on, and the screen is filled with some stupid commercial that you know you have seen a hundred times before, but somehow you just don’t seem to remember what it’s about. You glance at the calendar, Jesus, is it really June already? That’s what, four months now since the break up? Something like that. You try force your mind to see through the fog over the past few weeks. All you can really remember is making a few weak excuses to get out of social events, and telling your buddy that you just really don’t feel like having a beer.

  You call him up, it’s only eight o’clock, and he answers. Sure, a beer would be great right about now. “You sure your up to it buddy, you been kind of out of it lately.” “Yea,” you lie, “I’m fine, sorry if I’ve been a little nut’s just been distracted.”

  “No problem dude, see you in a few.” You go to the bathroom, and it’s going to take way more than a few to get yourself into shape, but you hurry and it isn’t too long before you meet him at the bar. He already has a cold one waiting for you. “You got the next round.” He announces as you take your seat next to him. “Sure thing,” you answer.

  He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation. You just gulp your beer, and give him that flat stare. You can’t not now, maybe not ever. He nods and takes a drink of his own. He gets it, he’s been there, we all have.

  You finish a few more, and life begins its normal pace again. Your back with the living and everything will be okay. The hurt is starting to fade finally, even if the memories are still a little too sharp for yo
ur taste. They will fade, and everything will be okay.

  But, there is that little voice in your head, the one that say no, no it won’t. Because even though you won’t admit it, you’re already starting to feel the pangs of loneliness.

  Weeks have passed now, your apartment is back in order, and your beard is gone. And the late summer sun is beating down on your back as you head into work. You hit the button on the elevator, and it slowly makes its ascent to your floor. You are thinking about that account, the big one that’s sure to get the bosses attention and clinch that promotion you have been angling for, when the sweet flowery scent of perfume suddenly invades your thoughts. You see the flash of a face in your mind, and begin smiling before you even turn.

  Her red hair is flowing to her shoulders and her cream colored skin is flushed from the slight jog to the elevator. Her bright blue eyes are filled with life and joy and her heart shape face glows with vitality.

  “Hi Samantha, good morning, how’s everything going?” She has her ever present smile, always warm and inviting. “Better, now that you’re here, how about you, what’s up?” You tell her about the account, and how you’re sure it’s going to get you a little higher in the