A delightfully real answer to posed question: can you be friends with an ex..?
Let me just roll him off the bed and kick him out the door. Onnnnne sec.
That’s better.. Now, understandably, you may question my take on this. But, let me share with you an apparently widely-known tale of my last three-year relationship’s demise. Note: it wasn’t meant to be widely known; however, when you get drunk and scream about it in the streets enough people seem to catch on. Or at the very least get pissed. And not pissed like I was while parading through an intersection, but angry-pissed. Yikes.
I will sum it up. Me. Cops in my kitchen. Staring at me with eyes that say.. “Little girl, are you really shocked that your [insert music industry title] boyfriend could possibly have been cheating on you with a [insert latin American nationality here] stripper?” Hmm.. can we just move on to how this little girl deals with a psycho “ex”/current girlfriend terrorizing me?
Official Statement:
Me: “I could deal with all her harassing texts and voicemails, but what drove me over the edge was when she sent me a lewd photograph of her, ahem.. backside? Saying my white trailer could never compare to her exotic brazi..”
Cop1: “Wait, before we continue.. are you sure it was her in the picture?”
Me (to Cop2 who is taking photos of my phone, evidence of said texts and pictures): “Well, I’ve never seen her before. Didn’t know her name until two days ago. But.. lemme see that picture again? Maybe I can recognize her by her ASS.”
Cop2: “Well, whether it’s her or not, it IS a nice ass.”
Me: ….
(Floooooored... looking around helpless in my apartment for a random ‘crowd’ of support. Anyone? Hullo? Just me? Balls.)
Charges pressed. Boyfriend MIA. Cops leave. Into fridge. Six-pack downed. To the streets!
So.. back to the question at hand. Visits have been, err.. random since the ‘incident’. The first time he arrived after 2am, was tender and needy. Asked questions, and wanted to hold me.. I was cold and hard. We know why they’re there don’t we ladies? Weeks pass, he shows up at 8:30 in the morning. Raring and wow. Hot. Dirty talk, really physical - everything you would never do to your girlfriend. He sleeps. He doesn’t try to hold me. He gets up. I laugh a lot. I don’t let him in. We don’t talk. We know why.
I don’t care about his [insert occupation here]. I don’t want to know about his friends. I definitely don’t want to know about the girl he may or may not be dating/licking/cheating on/fucking/breaking her soul, you know.. the usual. I don’t want to look at him too long and be sentimental. I don’t want to compare him in a pros and cons list to the new lover (I’ll save that for the newbie.. poor wanker). I just want him in. And I want him out. Literally.
Admittedly, our relationship was largely based on the physical, but we were also amazing friends – or so I thought. I miss him insanely, but could never forgive him. I’ll keep the piece I can handle for now. And that's "of ass". Because, more than most things – and there really is a lot of beauty underlying this Jerry Springer life - I love my friends.. and love doesn’t charge by the hour.
Peel me a grape..
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