My Ex Lover Isn't Dead

I saw my married ex-lover. 

It had been, like, three years. 

Maybe longer.

I honestly can't remember the last time I saw him. 

Apparently he had seen me since then. 

Once I crossed the street and I actually walked right in front of his car.

Once we ended up at the same bar but he didn't come say hi. 

I wanted to see him.

I wanted to look at him and feel completely different. 

I wanted to feel like, I'm not attracted to you at all anymore. 

Not even a little bit. 

But I still thought he was cute. 

I've known him for more than 10 years.

I thought he was cute when I met him. 

I don't think I will ever not think he's cute. 

Our time together was surreal.

I told him he felt kind of like a stranger and he said he kind of was. 

That's the thing with relationships, lovers friendships, if you don't make time to stay connected you lose the connection.

It's never the same as when you both invested so much time into it. 

I asked him if he was nervous and he said a little. 

I felt like when I was talking I wasn't even really listening to what I was saying and when he was talking I was only half listening to what he was saying. 

I spent most of the time half outside myself as though I was just looking down watching it all in disbelief. 

I didn't know if I was ever going to see him again. 

I'm sure his wife wouldn't be thrilled to know he bought me Jameson. 

Nothing happened.

I don't think either of us thought anything would. 

Though I'm not sure I would've stopped it if something had. 

I might be more Histrionic than I'd like.

We went to Ron Tom's on a Saturday night. 

I hadn't been out on a Saturday night in ages.

I forgot what Portlandia is like.

All the bros and the girls in their slutiest dresses and the wobbly people gathering off Burnside. 

It feels like a different city. 

I felt old. 

I just wanted to talk. 

Or sleep.

I was exhausted before I even saw him.

It was weird because you think if you hadn't seen somebody for that long you would have so much to say to each other. 

But I almost felt conversation was somewhat forced. 

I didn't really know what to say. 

I didn't really know what I wanted him to say. 

When I got home what I felt surprised the hell out of me. 

I didn't long for my lover in Dublin. 

I didn't revel in the solace of being alone. I suddenly craved Sheldon. 

The kid I'd dumped ages ago. 

But not in a sexual or even romantic way. I just wished he was in my apartment.

I longed for his company. 

I guess the heart wants what the heart wants. 

And I don't think my heart has a strong connection to the logic in my brain. 

When I realized who I was craving I felt like, where the hell did that come from??

How long has that been sitting in the recesses of my mind?

But I think it's because the closeness I had felt all those years with my married ex lover I now felt with him. 

He was the man in my life who knew me better than I cared to admit.

And as much as I like to think that so many other things are so important, at the end of the day all you really want is your best friend. 

He may not be the most handsome or the best boyfriend or the best sex. 

But he gets you, he accepts you and he still loves you even though he's seen who you really are.

All the men in my life keep asking me what I want. 

My ex-lover asked me that night what I wanted. 

Coworkers I'm not even close to ask me what I want. 

Dates during our dates and before our dates ask me. 

I don't know. 

I don't know what I want anymore. 

I'm not the same girl I used to be who knew exactly what she wanted. 

And I resent the fact that everyone expects me to have it figured out. 

Because maybe even if I thought I did, I'd change my mind. 

And I'd rather just keep it open. 

Because as this week proved, sometimes the things we think have long passed, show up unexpectedly. 

I really just have no idea anymore.

And I'm fine with that.