The Post Game Show

Monday, April 05, 2010

The Cynic's Death

So the new Alicia Keys song got me a bit keyed up to write creatively again, and here are the results. Feel free to read and comment. Thanks.

The morning sun snuck through my blinds and tapped me on the head until I awoke from a slumber I didn't even remember falling into. It's rare that I don't remember falling asleep, but after the previous night's events, it was understandable.

Cynicism was my best friend. It never let me down. Kept me honest when I felt myself getting to excited about anything, proved to be right whenever something didn't go my way. It also served as a buffer between me and the rest of society, a necessary bodyguard against sharing my feelings and emotions with humanity, who I was at odds with even though I'm a card carrying member of the group. However when I needed cynicism the most, my most trusted friend took a backseat.

It all started innocently enough, as most of these type of situations do, with being introduced by mutual friends. I didn't believe her interest from the jump because cynicism was still riding with me and our bond was tighter than Tiger Woods with Subway coupons. My friend thought I was being difficult. Her friend thought I was an asshole. I didn't think much of it. She, on the other hand, persisted.

Trading of phone numbers turned to texting, texting turned to phone calls, phone calls turned to conversations of current events. That's as far as I would let it go because I knew better. The fact that any woman, regardless of her character and intangibles - and she had a lot of positive ones - showing interest in me was a set-up. That's what cynicism told me.

Yet, she persisted. Long enough for me to agree to chill at my place one evening. Cynicism was PISSED.

"The hell are you doing," cynicism asked furiously. "This goes against everything we've talked about. She doesn't care about you! She's trying to play you. WAKE UP!"

"You sure are quiet tonight," she said in that sweet but assertive tone she usually took with me. We were watching the Five Heartbeats, a movie we both liked.

"I'm just focusing on the movie," I said. Now any other woman, one who knew what that meant, would excuse herself and call it a night.

Not this one. She figured out that cynicism was behind my indifferent attitude, and she began attacking the enemy.

"So I've noticed. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't like me," she chuckled mildly. Something awakened in me at that moment. The side of me that I let lie dormant. She successfully got to the soft spot that doesn't like to hurt feelings...especially when my attitude wasn't telling the truth about my feelings.

"It's not that I hate you or anything," I started.

"So what is it? Something you don't want to admit - you're making me pay for your past," she interrupted.

She continued to pound away at cynicism. "See, you think I'm not on to you. You're afraid to let me in because of all you've been through. Guess what, baby? We all hurt. We all suffer. Any other chick would've said to hell with your simple ass, but I'm not any other chick. I see something special in you and I'm gonna keep going until you see it in yourself and see that I do care."

Cynicism was hanging on by a thread. I stood up, albeit weakly and said "If you know so much about me, then what's next? I should change how I feel for you when I don't even know if you'll be here tomorrow? Come on now."

She stood up, approached me and literally had my back against the wall. She rubbed my shoulders and said "Don't change for me - change for yourself." At that point, my complexion was the only thing saving me from giving away the warm flush my skin was experiencing. My breathing became shallow. She kicked cynicism's ass.

"So," she said softly but with unflappable confidence. "Are you ready to let go?" I could only lean down to give her a chance at my lips. She readily accepted and good thing she didn't wait for a verbalized answer. We may have been staring at each other all night.


After the sunlight woke me up, I stirred and checked to see if she was there. Nothing. Only traces of her scent were left to remind me that once again, I had let my guard down only to be let down again. Or so I thought. I realized I hadn't left the TV on so pulled on my basketball shorts and peeked out of my bedroom door and there she was. Wearing my Phillies 2008 World Series champions t-shirt and nothing else, indian style on the couch.

"Breakfast is on the counter," she said between bites of bacon and waffles. "Help yourself." I tried not to smile as I made myself a plate and sat next to her and watched SportsCenter while eating.

She rubbed my leg and said "I think you're ready to let go."

And cynicism and I are no longer friends.


  • At 9:21 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I liked your short story. You should always have an open heart. I know it's hard. Trust me.

  • At 1:45 PM, Blogger Vee said…

    WHy did I cry a lil bit? I'm such a softy! I LOVED it Chris..more more more!!

  • At 9:11 PM, Blogger Mizrepresent said…

    Loved this post! Great story, maybe even a precursor for real life...feel me?

  • At 12:08 PM, Anonymous Jedidiah said…

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