We’ve all been here before. One minute you’re having a casual conversation with someone you like and suddenly one innocuous word or sentence is taken the wrong way. Without warning your two-way conversation starts to veer into oncoming traffic. From her reaction you’ve said something horribly wrong, but for the life of you really can’t place what exactly that something is. All you know is the horns of oncoming traffic are honking and your gut instinct is screaming “Danger Will Robinson, Danger!”.
So you do what you think is best: you immediately slam on the brakes and yank the conversation back onto your side of the road. Metal screeches as the impact dings your fender and the guardrail, sparks flying, scrapes some paint off of your burgeoning relationship. Unbeknownst to you that was a big mistake even before you thought to fix things.
Congratulations Einstein she now thinks you meant what you said. Innocuous words no more.
Oblivious to your errors you are now reacting on pure instinct and have entered full blown damage control mode; so you ignore her glare as you step out to assess the damage. Your foot hits the pavement of life and suddenly all you can hear is a solitary click underneath. Was it a twig or a landline arming? You don’t know but now you’re officially worried. So you ask for some help but as she steps out you can see the look on her face. You know that look and my friend you are in deep trouble. So your worry now escalates into full-blown fear because you know in your heart that she is willing to push you over even if it means everything blows up in both your faces.
She has now got your full attention.
Now that itself is a rarity for us guys since normally we’re distracted by well pretty much everything; especially if it’s wearing a little black dress. However in this moment the conversation becomes crisp and clear as you start to replay it in over and over in your mind. Amazingly, it’s flashing in front of your eyes like it’s your last few seconds alive – which may well be true since that light at the end of the tunnel is obviously the six o’clock express to Lonesome Town. So you shut up and look back at the words that caused this mess, searching for some Scooby Doo clue that could yank the mask off this mystery. That is when you realize that all of this happened because she mistook two innocent words, in a conversation about some t-shift place, as a casual insult to her intelligence. Part of you now hates that t-shirt company as internally you damn it for all eternity, but because she loves it you’ll always have to force a smile and sing its praises – just because you care about her.
So you exhale, drop your shoulders in defeat, and accept all the blame even though you were actually right this time. You’ll hop on that grenade in hopes that there still might be a way to pound the dents out of that fender. And no that’s not innuendo, so get your mind out of the gutter and back to the situation at hand. So you plead your case like you were Perry Mason, Denny Crane and Matlock all rolled into one magnificent beast. You tell her the truth, that you value her intelligence, that you’d play fortunes fool for all eternity just for her forgiveness. And at the end you still can’t meet her gaze to gauge her reaction out of fear that you’ve blown it. A few seconds pass in silence before you can hear the sounds of her laughter. Out of the corner of your eye you think you catch a smile on her face, so with renewed faith you decide to give in and lift your foot ready for final explosion to knock you off your feet.
Nothing. It was just a twig.
With a sigh of relief you realize that you might be safe, until you hear that car door slam and can only watch as the car roars away down that highway of life, leaving you behind in the darkness being pelted by rocks and dirt.
Guess you’re walking home.