Sympathy Pain

I remember the first time I heard this song…”Before he Cheats” by Carrie Underwood. I thought, “Damn, that’s one crazy chic.”

Now, many of you will think, “You Go Girl!!!” (Sorry about the gay 80’s flashback), and I would guess that would be a female reaction. “He had it coming, the SOB!”

Let me take you into my thought process…Here’s an attractive female, who seems to have lots going for her. However she take the time to even care that this guy is scum. Just walk away. Her destructive actions make me think…”Hmmm, maybe there is more to this story.” So going off personal experience, I have created the following scenario in my head:

She meets this guy at a bar, one of those with the ever present smell of nicotine, beer, and hay. It has a name like “Mickies” out front in dim neon. He stops shooting pool long enough to send a tall one her way. She’s disinterested at first, there with her friends to drink and maybe ride the bull. As the evening progresses, he becomes more persistent and she grows more approachable. They leave together, in his ford truck with the roll bar, confederate flag, and small member compensastion package.

The next morning, he is gone. She was smart enough to get his phone number by using his phone to call hers when he was in the bathroom. She’s also glanced through his wallet to see his address. She’d played this game before.

She calls him, but there is no answer. Repeatedly, she hears his voice on the voice mail, but he never returns the call. “He must be busy” she thinks. They had shared something…whispered promises through the haze of alcohol fumes that would last a life time. She had begun to figure out how her name would sound blended with his.

The day progressed and still no call. Maybe she had done something wrong. Maybe he was upset with her for not being “pretty enough”. Well, that couldn’t be it. All her friends told her how amazing she looked, especially after she asked them.

Day turns into evening, and she knows. He is with someone else. She could see it all now. At the bar, saying the same things to some fat slut. Buying her a girly drink. Promising to call the next day.

“I’ll show him!”

As he exits the bar with his brother, he sees his truck in shambles.

“Dude, who did you piss off?” the brother ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers “I only had 2 beers tonight, and played pool with you.”

As they examine the beat to death truck, he sees a name carved in the seats.

“What the…wait that was the girl I took home last night!”

As he continues he slides his hand under the seat and finds something he had been missing since that morning.”Damn, here’s my cell phone…12 new voice mails and 21 missed calls…all from this chic…”

And that’s how it rolls in my head…