all my exes live in texas
March 2, 2010, 4:06 am
Filed under: insight

The vegan ceasar salad was decent but needs a little tweaking. I’m pretty sure the two entire raw cloves of garlic I just ate on my own as a result of the test will cure anything that ails me. And scare the neighbors.

Forgot about the game, didn’t check my phone, and two hours late got a message from an ex telling me to meet him at the sports bar a couple blocks away. That overtime? Just for this girl. The bar was raging but the streets were quieter than everything else I’ve heard from friends stationed across the country. There was some power beer drinking and I found myself at the end of another 10 pm drunk.

B is my ex that I hang out with a lot now. I’ve had friends become more than friends, but I think he may be the first legit ex who’s become a friend. I’ve seen him through some pretty ridiculous phases and he’s forgiven me for that time I broke up with him by refusing to take his calls. Six and a half years ago, he was the first guy I dated when I moved to the city.

I’d say we’ve aged pretty well. He’s still smoking hot and has avoided the late twenties beer gut/receding hairline combo; his friends remain a little bit like an episode of Entourage, endearing in their bro-ness and love for each other. We’re the two having the best time in the room, new and improved now that the pressure is off. I give him advice about girls, he helps me move heavy furniture, and sometimes we meet up for breakfast on Saturdays.

It’s sort of funny that it took finally, really breaking up for both of us to grow up and see each other for what we are. And to appreciate it a little more.

Exes are a funny thing. There are only about five bona fide exes, when it comes down to it and all the real scores are tallied. There are two I hope are happy but I don’t keep in touch with, and two I think are ridiculous human beings. Upon first meeting, it would have been difficult to figure out where each of these would slot, how it was going to end. The breakups for the latter were the most painless, maybe because by the time it got around to being really done I didn’t like them as people anymore. Maybe I was waiting for the kind of redemption that keeps the former as good memories, I just waited too long.

I just recently saw a picture of my last ex boyfriend. He looks… prematurely old and tired. And it made me feel… good. I never promised any evolution.

As a sidenote, this hopefully marks exactly six months to the endless summer. Party, on.

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