My formal education seems like it was eons ago. One thing I do remember learning from my hott 26 year old Algebra teacher is that “x” stands for the unknown. Anyone who has ever suffered from a breakup understands that this mathematic principle runs an eerily similar parallel to our love life. Ex also represents the unknown. Are we supposed to keep in touch? Wish them a happy birthday? Congratulate them on a job promotion? Tell them their new girlfriend needs rhinoplasty and a restraining order against polyblend maxi dresses?
Last week, an ex-boyfriend sent me a text message saying “Hey!” I should have clarify we have not spoken in over 2 years and from what I remember he is so not an exclamation point kind of guy. My first thoughts upon receiving his text were the following a) He is coming out of the closet. b) He needs to borrow money. c) He wants me to stop obsessively looking at his new girlfriends Linkedin profile – for the record she is a 31 year old college graduate “barista” #reachforthestars. I have such an issue with the term “barista”. There is no need to glamorize waking up at 5am to make corporately crafted coffee in a dumb hat . That’s like being a fucking dog walker and calling yourself a “Canine Fitness Consultant”. I coolly waited 48 minutes before responding with a super casual “hey.” classic case of an intentional period. I thought that was a really nice touch – it says I am approachable yet distracted. Instantly I was overcome with anxiety – why is he texting me?
I began to think more about my ex communications. We keep shoes we will probably never wear but toss out exes like they are expired milk. I have wisely said multiple times that once you see a guys “pee-pee” staying friends is kind of creepy. I am not sure if I actually believe this or I was just influenced by a good rhyme. He went on to ask how I was doing and asked if we could meet up for a drink soon and “catch up :)”. I know this bitch didn’t dabble in exclamation marks and sure as fuck didn’t text smiley faces. SUPER AWKY. I responded with a cool “sounds good. lemme know.” Sometimes I can be so nonchalant it KILLS me. I started thinking about friendships with exes and realized I literally have none. Being the adorably neurotic bitch that I am, I then began to psychoanalyze myself and wonder what that says about me… I then made myself a dirty martini before I started to get the shakes and concluded that I will never be good friends with any of my serious ex boyfriends with good reason. For one, I don’t like to voluntarily welcome rejection into my social life. Our blessed union clearly ended for a reason and when meeting for a quick “catch up” if he didn’t seem completely tore up from my absence in his world I would feel under appreciated. Not to sound like a huge dick but he is a 6 in looks and a 4 for charisma, and I think I am a fair overall 7.9 … if you are a leg guy some might even say an 8.1 #thighgap. So naturally he should never be able to get over me right? I like to think he cries himself to sleep every night trolling my Instagram feed wondering how he ever let me go. Additionally, I think to ever truly move on and meet someone new staying all bullshit buddy-buddy with your ex boyfriend is the metaphorical leash holding you back. They know you too well – things normal friends don’t know. Every meeting turns into a mixed signal hell. “When he said he liked my dress did that mean he was flirting with me? Why did he kiss me on the cheek instead of a friendly hug?” You can’t tell them about who you’re dating now (unless it’s passive aggressively), complain about your ever perplexing state of constipation (unless you are me who discusses it constantly) you can’t ask them to go buy you a pregnancy test or ask them to hold your hand through a brazilian bikini wax because you aren’t real friends.
Oy vey. All this thinking over a fucking catch up? I really need meds. I decided drinks seemed too committal and proposed coffee instead. I don’t drink coffee but hadn’t shit in 4 days so I figured between an espresso, the anonymity of a public restroom and the nerves of meeting an ex boyfriend, a bitch might get lucky. Keeping it ever so platonic I said “Hey can’t do drinks. Wanna grab a coffee instead
so I can relieve my constipation and give birth to this food baby in time for my upcoming weekend getaway with my incredibly better looking new boyfriend?” I waited and waited, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by fucking day and no response. Finally last night around 10pm he replied “hey sorry, ya ill let you know what day works for me.” Huh? You asked me fucker! Don’t try to out manipulate a mass manipulator, I know your game I CREATED this game. And because I have never had these type of internal and borderline schizophrenic conversations in my head while making plans with ANY of my real friends the answer is simple. This in itself is why I have never delusionally skipped down the tear stricken road of friendship with any former lovers. That sentence makes me want to kill myself… tear stricken road? What the fuck?
Exes are the ultimate unknown value, BUT every bitch should know HER value. And this bitch doesn’t see any ex valuable enough to be relevant in my equation. #boom