The weekend morning after a questionable hook-up I often scramble to find a plausible excuse that will gently cajole the girl out the door without hurting her feelings.
“I’d love to hang with you today but I’ve got to take my car into the shop. Big job… it’ll probably take a few hours.” [my Japanese car has now been in the shop over 20 times this year thanks to this ploy]
“Getting brunch with you sounds great, but I promised my Mom I’d visit her today. I’m guessing it’s too early for you to see my Mom.”
“I’ve got a painting class in… oh shit, I’m late!… 15 minutes! Sorry to do this to you but my art is important to me.”
I suspect most girls see through this bullshit, especially the girls who are prone to sleep with a guy on the first night. Their direct first-hand experience with guys trying to get rid of them after sex must be unparalleled. The problem is that I really don’t want to spend a precious weekend day with a marginal girl strolling Wisteria Lane while bluebirds drape garlands of flowers over us. But I’m not a heartless bastard (much) either, so I work hard on tossing her out with grace and civility, hopefully keeping the door open for future loving.
I remember what it’s like to kick a girl out badly. One time, before I had the skills to handle morning after mistakes properly, the girl had looked at me forlornly with big, watery eyes as I walked her toward the door, and meekly asked if I wanted to get breakfast with her. It was her last ditch effort for some symbolic gesture from me that she meant more than the previous night.
I answered “Um, I ate last night. The best way for you to get home is to take the metro.”
She gathered her stuff, purse over one arm, jacket over the other, and sullenly walked past me as I stood next to the door. Later, when I had shaken off the hangover and it had dawned on me that this girl was Swedish and a solid 8, I slapped my hand against my forehead and wondered aloud what the hell I was thinking. The following day in an act of phone game contrition, I called her number. It was futile. Her roommate picked up her phone and said my girl didn’t want to talk to me. No surprise… recapturing a girl’s interest after you have humiliated her by treating her like a disposable slut is akin to putting the toothpaste back in the tube.
So imagine my relief at sidestepping all the awkwardness when a girl does the dirty work for me, letting me entirely off the hook, by preemptively showing herself the door.
Her: I’d love to cuddle some more but I’ve got work later and some chores to do today.
Me: [barely suppressing grin] Well, if this is what you have to do, then I guess I won’t stop you. I mean, I’d love for you to hang out today but since you’ve got things to do…
Her: Well, maybe for a couple hours, if you want.
Me: Uhh, you know, you go ahead and do your stuff… we’ll catch up when we have more free time and can really enjoy each other’s company.
A girl who shows herself out is a keeper.
[crypto-donation-box]
