If there’s something weird that CAN happen with an ex-boyfriend, that weird thing is going to happen to me.
“Hey, what’s up, we never actually DATED 15 years ago, we just slept together, and never spoke again after I told you that needed to stop. But sure, by all means, send me a Facebook message request (because we’re not FB friends) that’s just the automated wave.”
I dated…SO many weirdos, you guys. And it’s ALWAYS the weirdos. No ex I WANT to hear from ever contacts me.
Also, I should mention that HIS WIFE has viewed my LinkedIn profile at least three times over the years. Maybe I’m in the running to be their guest star. (🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼!)
I never mentioned that Elbows Guy had the same name as my ex.
But let’s say my ex’s name is John — Elbows Guy was a grown-ass man who chose to go by “Johnny.” That was enough of a departure to clear him for a first date, but in hindsight I don’t know what I was thinking. Moaning “Johnny” in bed was not gonna work for me, just generally. But also, my ex’s family called him Johnny when he was a kid, and occasionally as an adult at family gatherings. So in any sexual context, Johnny has “ick” all over it. (Johnny Castle notwithstanding.)
So of course today I get a nice enough first message from a different OkCupid guy, and I’m thinking, “Huh. This is pretty good, I’ll probably respond,” but then toward the end he says, “By the way, my name’s ‘That Guy.'”*
Of course it fucking is.
I gotta stop screwing around with guys with common names. Next guy I get naked with has to be named, like…Moonbeam.
*If you’ve just followed recently, That Guy is the pseudonym I assigned to a guy who hurt me pretty badly, and when I used to talk to friends about him, they’d be like, “Oh, THAT guy…”
I’ve been meaning to get this out for a while, so here goes…
I’d really enjoy some indication that, at some point, I will stop genuinely wondering what I’m even doing trying to live my life apart from my ex.
I know I’ll LIVE; it’s not that dramatic. But some days it just doesn’t make sense. My brain will just stop and think, “Wait, I did WHAT? Well, that’s just ridiculous. Go home. Go home right now.”
It’s been 2 years. Can that stop? I’d really like to stop feeling like he’s just on a trip or working odd hours, or like I’m just in some alternate universe where I can sleep with other people if I want to.
At least there are also days I’m able to see the logic and not just the emotion, when the prospect of “someone else” doesn’t seem completely absurd. I have zero interest, since I’m emotionally fucked six ways to Sunday, but maybe eventually. And it’s not like he’s not in my life. He’s just not in my home…which makes it hard to even say “home” and have that mean anything.