Thursday, 7 May 2009

I won't tell if you won't tell

Now that I have had a moment to pause and catch my breath, let's try to get back into the swing of blog things. This means you, me.

En tout cas.

After what felt like a very loooooong day of work, I came home and went straight upstairs to put on old sweats and a hoody and set about making a picnic style dinner of leftovers and salad, ready to collapse on the couch with some ER Season 1. My hair was a greasy mess and I was exhausted. That's when my phone rang. It took me a couple lines of pleasantries to figure out who was on the other end of the phone.

When I realized I was talking to Mike, I jumped up. Mike was my first boyfriend, that first real love that I just knew was going to last forever... until we broke up. Three years later and I have happily moved on, but for some reason, the moment we started talking, I got fidgety.

"What are you doing now? Do you want to meet, grab something to eat?"

Mike is incredibly busy all the time, because of his program and his dedication to his work (and his girlfriend) so I don't get to see him much. I agreed, and caught sight of my hair in the mirror as he told me "I'll be over in like, two minutes?"

"Uh... How about fifteen?"

I hung up the phone and turned to my mother, who was finishing dinner. Eavesdropping apparently runs in my family, so she already knew what was happening and was on the same page "Exboyfriend coming over! You gotta look good!". Thirty seconds later, I was in the shower. I love long, warm showers full of daydreams and pumice stones, but this was the shortest shower of my life. I thought I'd been about five minutes when I hopped out of the shower and ran to my room to find clothes, only to realize I'd angrily removed my bra downstairs. Clamping a damp arm over my chest, I ran to the stairs to ask my sister for help.

"HEY! Sister! Can you throw me my bra? It's down there."

She came to the stairs, bra in hand, and said "Here. Hey, Mike is here, eh?" She laughed. I froze, hissed angrily and ran into my room the throw on an outfit that said "thrown on" but also somehow reflected my year of growth and my assets, cursing my sister the whole way. What is wrong with these people? Can't they help a girl out and tell her when the ex shows up??

I ran downstairs and realized... she'd been joking. He arrived five minutes later.

Thanks, team.

Opening jitters aside, I had the most fun I've had with Mike in a long time. No awkward one-upmanship, no me comparing myself to his new girlfriend, just joking and laughing and remembering and sharing as we walked our old route around Old Ottawa South. I want to have more evenings like that.

There is something about exes. Something totally bizarre and unnatural.

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