Slammed & Split

Digging Out

Download Digging Out as an mp3

I've always had a thing for redheads,
even though they get me in trouble.
And it might be a little weird,
because my mom's one of them, too
and …
there's no digging out of a hole
that incestuously deep.

Aaanyway …

Christine was kinda redheaded,
or at least strawberry blonde.
And that was a crush I had to maintain
for three years of junior high
because I was honest in truth or dare
and said I thought she was the prettiest
and I'd like to like her if I could.

Well, that was the worst-kept secret
in the CIG program,
except for Kevan getting his ass kicked by Kyana in 6th Grade.
But he's a Marine now,
and I'm sure we all know who'd win the rematch.

So fuck you, Chris Sewell,
for airing my shit out
and starting me down
this slippery slope of strawberry seduction.
I wasn't ready for her then,
though I'm sure she'd date me now.

Did I mention this girl modeled?
In Paris?
And then went to Princeton?
Can y'all tell me why we haven't spoken?
Cuz me,
I got nothin.

The jump then goes to Tara.
Tara, Tara, Tara …

Fuck.

This is gonna be embarrassing.

This was
senior year,
when I had finally figured out
that girls seemed to like me,
at least a little bit.
My mom said it was because when I was younger,
I read all them Babysitters … Club … Books.

Thinking out loud —
and that wasn't even what I was worried about tellin' y'all.

So girls seemed to like me
and I seemed to have some skill
some je ne sais quoi
for that elusive, God-given talent
we like to call "game" —
I just didn't believe it yet.

I mean,
I was a nerd.
A 90-average-without-really-trying-
read-every-Star-Wars-book-in-order-
would-rather-play-Chrono-Trigger-than-party
MUTHAFUCKA.

What I'm trying to say is,
you wouldn't have believed it neither —
at first.

But back to Tara.
Terrible fucking Tara.
I met her
at this party,
this massive monstrosity of a get-together
at EZ Axelrod's palacious Queens estate.
Just for reference,
this dude had an elevator
in his house
and turrets on the roof
so they could keep crusaders at bay
with bows and arrows
or some shit.
Fuck if I know —
I've only been there twice
and we weren't under siege either time.

Can y'all tell I'm still stalling?

So this party, right?
This
800-person party,
and I picked her
to pick up,
or at least try to.

Fucking redheads.

So we got to talking,
and truth be told,
I don't really remember much
about where she was from
[Queens]
where she went to school
[Francis Lewis]
or why we clicked
[We had 10 mutual friends and tripped on that small world tip.]
I do know we got on so well
that I froze up
because I didn't wanna ruin it,
because being smooth was new to me.

[By the way,
me using "froze"?
That's what we writers like to call
"foreshadowing."]

So I'd been kickin' it
… and kickin' it
… and kickin' it
…
and kickin' it
and I probably had this chick
horny as hell,
which is, well,
the only way
I can hope to explain
the events that transpired next:
see, she turned around
and there she found
my boy,
my best friend,
this
dude I'd known since I was five
and used to play Megaman with during recess.
This cat
inexplicably had a pint of ice cream,
and he fed her some off his spoon.
And then they made out.

And I was standing stunned,
thinking to myself,
"GOT DAMN,
do I have to remember that shit for next time!"

I soon found out
that carrying ice cream around
is kinda messy during the summer months,
and that shit don't fly in winter,
though it's money in the spring and fall,
at least on a good day.

From there we jumpcut to Amanda,
who might have been
the most staunchly naive person I knew.
She had her ways, her world, her routines
and that was her whole shit.
Anything she did was on her terms,
like the year she resolved to become a vegetarian,
just to see if she could
… and did.
And then tried to eat meat
the first day of the next year,
just to prove she could without tossing it back,
… and didn't.

So, this girl.
This girl and me,
we kicked it on this
slow-developing vibe,
this
always-ongoing,
four-year kind of vibe,
this
maybe-we-should-
maybe-we-shouldn't-
maybe-we-should-again
kind of vibe.

So I decided to invite
her to a fraternity formal
my freshman year.
And when the pictures got posted
on the DJ's Web site,
the only one
with either of us in sight
was of her up tight
dancing on some other guy.

And y'all remember what I said
about foreshadowing,
right?

We started sophomore year
by renewing old interest
before a hellish Halloween binge,
that was a lot to take in,
put up a wall between us.
So I started dating otherwise,
she tried out some other guys
and after another separate summer,
we returned to campus.

In a surprise and stunner,
we resparked that relationship philly
because we got high when we smoked it.
Though just when it started to settle in,
I bounced countries
and studied abroad.
[Or two. Holla.]
But Amanda ain't let go like that.
She kicked it on some e-mail every day shit.
Some
long-ass e-mails,
we was buggin' out shit.
Some
I don't know how we had that much to say shit.
And then came the trip.

She came to see me
up here in New York
and I thought for a second
this might actually work.
But it was easy and awkward:
easy to be around each other,
but awkward to be around each other like that
with everything all up in our face.

Her last day
we went to the zoo,
and all the animals was FUCKIN:
bears, monkeys, turtles,
even some slithering snakes.
And I thought to myself,
"Nature,
if you're listening,
you got one FUCKED UP sense of humor."

So that summer slid by,
senior year came nigh,
and, go figure,
we gave this one more fucking got-damned try.

Energy got expended
in an aimless direction
and we wasted four more months
before I brought this to a head,
called her out on the bullshit,
finally up and said,
"I think we've got a good thing going,
and it could go somewhere good,
if only we'd let it lead us."

And I told her to get back to me on it,
cuz I knew not to force.
She said she'd speak to me Sunday,
so I went about my weekend.
And she decided to say
that she'd been seeing someone else,
and while some people could do
that dual dating deal,
she wasn't one of them.
And since she was with this mope,
she didn't think it'd be right
to deny him a fair chance
to finish what he'd started.

But at that point,
I'd finally started to finish
this foolish floundering fling,
and responded by involving myself in
a revolving string
of girl situations
that were actually substantial,
and for that,
Amanda, I thank you
and hope you enjoy missing me,
because after this summer
there was no sliding back.

See, I've got this thing for redheads,
even though they get me in trouble.
And it might be a little weird
because my moms is one of them, too.

But there's no digging out
of a hole this incestuously deep.