"i can hear her in the distance spewing half-truths to anyone who would listen. and everyone listens when they're only getting the version of a story from a teary-eyed single mother who only stops yelling it to blow her nose and use more language that keeps the censors busy at making this episode airable. she screams that i promised to be there and that i promised to take care of her and the baby. and she's convincing, probably because she believes the things she's saying. maybe they are true. i probably did say those things. i probably said i would do a lot of things. and i'd probably be more sympathetic for her if i didn't know the truth. she's not telling the whole story about us. she had promised me that i was the only one she wanted. and that she wanted my baby. so the only truth i'm recognizing is that i shouldn't even be here.
i'm so focused on my defense and refuting her assault on my character i don't even hear the host tell me to come out; a production assistant taps me on the shoulder and leads me towards the stage and on the path of my walk of shame. the crowd is already booing me and i haven't even reached the top of the stairs yet. i don't understand why. when he said "let's see what brian had to say" and turned on my video, i didn't have shit to say. is there a possibility i'm the father of her baby? the truth is i should've been the only possibility. so why deny it? we were together and i thought we loved one another. i thought we were starting a family. i thought i was the only one she was sleeping with. and i said that in my video. but that ain't shit. i guess sometimes the truth ain't shit. i hesitate when i reach the top of the stairs and give the audience a quick scan before coming out. the audience looks particularly hostile today. i'll have to watch this episode some time later to see which one of the other guests pissed them off so badly. now i'm kinda wishing our segment had been first. get in, get the results, get my ass back home with the truth. but whatever, it's my time now. i look over the crowd again and notice there is a woman in the front row convicting me with her eyes, as if she knows me or something, or someone like me from a previous show. maybe every dude on shows like these is the same to her and every situation the same. single mother, questionable father...guilty, guilty, guilty. she already had me swinging from the gallows. or castrated, presumably that being a more fitting punishment to her. knife in hand, she could ensure no more bastard children from a bastard like me. but i'm not surprised. she is convincing and somehow made our story personal to this woman. but not knowing the whole story before you commit to a side can be a very dangerous thing. and this woman's eyes told me nothing i could say would sway the opinion she'd formed of me in the five minutes since she'd discovered i existed. i've seen the show before. i know how they tend to go. if i'm not the father, the audience will grasp and she'll run offstage saying she knows who the father then but there'll be no apologies from anyone for me. and if i am, it'll only confirm that i have a child but she'll still have lied to me about being with someone else. but i'm the one being comdemned. if i were a woman on the show for the fifth time, testing a tenth man for the paternity of her child, i'd be received as a heroine. commended for doing the right thing for my baby. lauded for seeking out the biological father and giving him an opportunity to be involved in its life. but i'm not a woman. hell, i'm not even a man. i'm a fool who placed his trust in someone unworthy of trust; a believer in the unbelievable.
i'm a dude, coming down the stairs and onstage to a cascade of boos, insults and murderous glances; from both sexes. the host walks over to me and i shake his hand, then the customary bro hug. it's standard on the show. but before i can move to my seat she's out of her chair and trying to get in my face, waving her fingers and calling me a liar. she's out of control. her eyes are intense, there's snot dripping from her nose and i'm scared for her. she's gonna hurt herself or get hurt. i've never seen the security on this show ever have to manhandle a guest the way they're doing her. three of them have her restrained and she's still trying to fight them. "my baby looks just like you. look at its nose, look at its eyes..." "did you think this baby looks like you brian?" i tell him it doesn't matter what the baby looks like, i'll know whether or not it's mine by the blood results. that her cursing and her crying are lies, that hiding the fact that i may not be her child's father was the ultimate deception and i'm only on the show for the truth. and the host, realizing he isn't going to get any more out of me or her that could boost his ratings, motions over to another production assistant for the envelope holding the answer we've both been waiting for. "brian...you...""
