Every time I leave my apartment wearing sweats and/or my #CatLady hat, I’m aware of the risks. By risks, I obviously mean the increased chance that I’ll either A. run into a hot guy, or B. see an ex boyfriend.
Last week, a coworker and I were chatting about various exes we had. She asked me about my very first love and if I’d seen him since we broke up.
We broke up 10 years ago, and I’m lucky enough that he lives in Chicago and is married with a child.
The chances of me running into him — or anyone that knows him — are slim to none. Thank God.
My coworker wasn’t as lucky, and said she ran into her ex/first love at a bar shortly after they broke up.
If it were me, I probably would’ve bolted, but she’s way cooler and more brave, so she stuck it out and just avoided him the whole night.
It’s been a solid while since I’ve bumped into an ex (knock on wood); the last time was about a year ago at the Albertson’s on College Drive. I was buying frozen dinners and cat food, of course.
He was walking into the store as I was leaving. My heart jumped, but I put my head down and kept walking. And that was that.
When I was actually dating that guy though, I had a bad run-in with an ex.
I was so into this new guy and I really wanted my friends to meet him. So we all agreed to have drinks at Ruffino’s.
On the drive there, we passed a car on fire — isn’t that a bad omen?
When we got to Ruffino’s, my ex was at the bar. I hadn’t seen him in years; basically since we broke up.
I kept it cool and walked right past him, even though he waved and attempted to flag me down.
But later, he came over to the group and asked to “please” talk to me.
I let him talk, but when the conversation didn’t appear to be moving in the direction I felt I deserved (i.e. an apology), I cut it short and told him I had to get back to my boyfriend and friends.
I found out months later that he was actually engaged and conveniently failed to mention it to me.
Of course, I know that it really shouldn’t matter what you look like, how you’re dressed, or what you say when you run into an ex. The relationship is over, and probably for good reason, so what does it matter?
It’s just that satisfaction of knowing you looked good or you were feeling great when someone that hurt you randomly sees you. It’s the coveted slap in the face.
Now, there is a difference between randomly running into your ex and hanging out at their favorite places in hopes of seeing them. That is just crazy.
As cheesy as it sounds, I really do think that things happen for some sort of reason, even if it doesn’t make much sense at the time.
My fear of running into an ex doesn’t keep me indoors, and it certainly doesn’t keep me from my public displays of loungewear and dry shampoo.
Perhaps it’s more about how you react to things that happen. Do you flip out, scream, and overreact or go for the easy-breezy approach?
Me? I’m more of a dance-party in the car type-a-gal. Keep it movin’.