Freeze Robyn out the way I’ve tried to do since she dumped my ass three years ago, or man up and accept the fact that I’m glad to see her on this tour. Sitting alone in a diner wondering if she’ll show, I decide to quit being a pussy and let go of the anger and confusion I’ve held on to for so long. She ended things for one reason or another, reasons I may never know, and I have to shove my macho bullshit aside and deal with that like an adult. I drum my fingers on the table impatiently while I wait. “Patience, Dallas,” my granddad used to say when he was first teaching me to play the guitar. I’d get so damn frustrated when my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. “The music isn’t going anywhere,” he’d remind me. “Be patient with it, with yourself.” I’ve just made up my mind to relax and let her know that I’ve put our past behind me when she breezes into the diner. A bell chimes at the door and all the progress I’ve made vanishes like a figment of my imagination.
