An Excerpt from Dangled Carat:
“Oh, don’t worry. I had no intention of ever calling him again. And I think he knew it. If my mumbling ‘yeah right’ when he told me to call him didn’t give him a clue, then it was my demeanor when I left the house. I was cold as ice, and hurt as hell. There is no doubt in my mind that as I pulled out of the driveway he realized he really blew it. But I did well, I didn’t cry until I was safely alone in my car.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m glad he didn’t see you cry.”
“I had no desire to go home and sit by myself. Nor did I have any desire to reach to a friend and try to make spur-of-the-minute plans. I didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, nor did I want anyone’s advice. I am tired of everyone telling me I am crazy for dealing with his shit. So I drove to a shoe store halfway between my house and his, and wandered around. I was there for about a minute, when I called my mother, hysterical. The poor lady, she was at a wedding, and she was trying to console me!
“Your poor mom,” Jaye answered. I knew she could relate—her son is my age, and she has shared in his dating dramas.
“She didn’t know what to do or what to tell me. She kept reminding me she was at a wedding, which didn’t really help my emotional state, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I can understand,” Jaye grinned.
“So I got mad at her and hung up. I wandered around the store for a few minutes, barely able to see past my rage. Now, you know I am really upset when a new pair of shoes can’t lift my spirits.”
“Oh, yes. Usually retail therapy solves your problems,” Jaye said. “But enough about shoes, what happened next?”
About the Author:
Hilary Grossman dated a guy so commitment-phobic that she was able to write a book about their relationship.
She is currently the CFO of a beverage alcohol importer and lives on Long Island.