Maybe "wrongs" is too harsh of a word. Maybe what I mean is: how many girls' hearts have I broken? As surprising as it may sound, the answer is: more than one. I would venture to say that I've broken too many. How many times, rather than showing a girl true sympathy, have I watched the clock, wondering how much time I had to feign sympathy before I could excuse myself and do anything else in the world other than listen to her sobs? How many times have I actually fallen asleep listening to a girl cry?
Maybe I am a jerk, I don't know. But in my defense, if things weren't working out, I let the girl know right away. Sometimes, I admit, it has taken me awhile to come to the realization that I didn't want to continue a relationship, but in those cases, I simply wanted to make sure I was making the right decision before ending things.
I haven't always made the right decisions. There was the volleyball player who warned me that if I made her cry, she would "cut me." She didn't cut me. She's a good person and sometimes I wonder what she's doing now, to paraphrase the Garth Brooks song. But I know what she's doing now, actually. Not because I stalk her (and trust me, if anyone deserves to be stalked, it's her, as odd of a compliment as that is) but because I got to know her enough that I know that she's a good person who helps people.
Then there's the first girl I met after my divorce. Well, I don't really think about her. Ever. I made her cry, I admit, but in my defense, she turned out to be crazy. "Crazy" is a strong word, I know, but anyone who admits that she was possessed by an evil spirit and had to have an exorcism performed scares me just a little bit.
Then there was the roaring 90s. But no one remembers those years, or wants to.
For whatever reason, I'm okay with being single. Sort of. It's just that I have these blindfolds and handcuffs that aren't being used, and I feel bad for them.
