So this really funny thing happened to me last night..
My mentor once told me to write the things out that happen, if nothing else it’s therapeutic. Let’s test the waters--
Tuesday was unfolding in the same way it does almost each week. Allow me to walk you through it. I woke-showered-dressed, packed my gypsy bag including, but not limited to: laptop, multiple binders/books for class, work folders and documents, face wash/makeup, and gym clothes.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I change in my car and random bathrooms so much I might as well be a superhero.
I go to work and get a lot of stuff accomplished. I have my first presentation on Friday at the Team meeting of my most recent undertaking, and by the end of the work day yesterday I had almost everything researched, filed away and ready to go- one less thing to worry about.
In between work and class I ventured to my favorite side of Charlotte: Plaza-Midwood, and to my own heaven on earth: the used book store.
Afterwards I settled in at Blu Basil café in a corner booth with a book and relaxed. Later that night, class was interesting, and I turned in the first paper for that particular class. So far, yesterday was a smooth success, but not everything is as it seems—am I right?
So this is the point in my very personal account that I should probably break to inform you of a little background story, general housekeeping and what not.
First things first, I’m a hypocrite. A total hypocrite in every sense of the “I don’t practice what I preach” way. I say it time and time again, and I accept and agree each time I hear it--but no matter how many times I utter the words I can’t seem to comply.
Remaining friends with an ex is unjustifiably, excruciatingly, absolutely and utterly a bad idea.
Yet, I’m notorious for the trial and the error. If you’re thinking it’s a possibility: learn from my very amusing and epic failure. However, true to form I’ve stayed friends with my more recent ex for some time. I wish I could tell you that this relationship of mine ended in good terms, and if you consider a few slammed doors and harsh words-good terms then yeah, sure. All things considered, it could have always been much, much worse. I digress—
What’s more I wish I could tell you that our new found friendship was simple and fun, but this wasn’t always the case. Our relationship was like a train track, one minute we’re trucking along on course and suddenly we need to change direction. There is a switch and the conductor pulls and we abruptly switch gears going along the romantic route to the platonic path; unfortunately for us the platonic track is missing a few bolts and screws.
So post-break up we’re rolling on for the most part pretty on course, until I get a little busier. Now as my boyfriend the ex had a lot of my attention, but in the aftermath -a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do. When the smoke cleared, I had a new internship, two new research assignments, school and work to boot. The more I did, the less time I could sacrifice, and my ex/new friend felt neglected.
In the midst of it all, we have a new story which I can’t divulge too many details. It’s the timeless story of guy meets girl. Myself being the girl, the guy..well that’s for me to know;) Yet we live in the modern-day era where advancement kills the above tale. You see, my guy meets girl story also included: other girl.
I don’t get it, this is my story right? Who is casting all these characters? I’ll never know, but as it happens, other girl has strong crush on guy and other girl dislikes girl (or me). Man I’m confusing myself. Ultimately my romantic “guy meets girl” fairy tale is more like a short story, and life as I know it returns to all business. Not a bad thing, until you consider other girl. Henceforth we’ll call her, “Bruised Ego.”
Meanwhile my Neglected Ex was undertaking his own new projects. Sometimes life is messy, we all get it, but when this guy of mine began to feel the world’s pressure he caved, and landed himself in the crosshairs of an intoxicated dilemma.
I don’t have to divulge much to tell you my concern, and things in my life started taking a back seat. My writing, for one; add school to the list. No matter what I did or said, there was no getting through to this one. It’s the re-occurring theme in my own story: I never know when to let go.
Enough background, back to Tuesday, after class I was gym bound and I started getting texts from friends. Turns out my mess of an ex believes the weekend starts on Tuesday. With others worried, I debated. What does one do? Let the ex wallow in self-destruction, self-pity? Or intervene?
I get in my car and turn down that once familiar street.
I knock, no answer, but since we share custody of a dog that I let out and feed often, along with the house sitting I do for this friend of mine, in I go. I half expected this drunken mess of mine to be passed out on the couch. In my mind I’m thinking of this serious intervention we’re about to have based on a very troubling conversation we had not 24 hours prior. The TV was blaring, but this Neglected Ex of mine wasn’t interested.
We’ll call it Neglected Ex meets Bruised Ego. Oh the irony
Talk about walking into the fire. Fire of passion that is, and awkwardly I stepped over Bruised Ego’s bra and clothing which was strung over my poor pup’s crate straight to the garage, Neglected Ex right on my toes sans anything but underwear.
Standing in the garage at midnight on a Tuesday night donning my gym clothes, hair in a ponytail, ankle brace, and holding only my car keys-looking up at my highly intoxicated mess of an ex, stripped bare (literally) of all dignity—and I couldn’t help it. I laughed, hysterically.
As I write this, I’m still laughing. Poor guy looked as shaken up as any I’ve seen. Meanwhile Bruised Ego sits awkwardly upstairs, waiting. First and last time I’m ever the uninvited guest.
What’s more, what if I killed it for the two of them? Let us all hope that my surprise arrival didn’t completely throw them off.
So Tuesday, any old day: get up, go to work, eat a few meals, go to class, and gym trip followed by surprise intervention gone horribly wrong. There is a lesson in all this, who am I kidding there are a few..
Call first.
Friends with an ex: bad call
Karma, it’s for real.
The Score:
Jordan: 1
Bruised Ego: 1
Neglected Ex: -2
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