Our exes are roller coasters, but that doesn’t mean it’s our duty to get on more than once.
It’s better to get off the ride when the warning signs appear, than to take the risk of continuing to ride along.
Why is it though, that we’re so caught up in the unpredictability of our ex that we excuse the unknown of getting back into with them as adventure?
It’s never really an adventure as much as it is a path of no return.
Once we become re-involved with our ex, whether it works out or not, we end up finding ourselves in a pit.
A pit between fate and fortune.
Are we really meant to be with this person or is time just playing its role in the present?
How do we know when an ex is meant to be waste or not?
Fate was certainly telling me to toss my ex in the trash, and the more he pushed away from our pre-made plans, the further he became from my future.
So what’s the point of all of the fluff talk and attempt to reconnect over text and Snapchat if really it just ends up in cancelled plans and a cancelled outfit?
What started as daydreaming about the way his eyes would bulge when he saw me in my new Cristian Soriano heels and Guess purse with my new worldly aura and intellect, turned into another rejection from my ex, canceled dinner dates and hotel cocktails, which in turn became a texting war between a battle of the sasses: who could out-text the other.
And just as I thought my sass was picking up and hitting the perfect level of bitch without bitching over, I was met with the phrase no woman should ever have to hear:
“Wow, I so made the right choice two years ago.”
And just as the text appeared on my screen I could begin to feel my eyes glaze over as I began to lose every last drop of hope I had in finding love with my ex.
I knew my life had been great without him, I knew my life was simply better without him as my boyfriend, but what I wasn’t sure of was whether or not he would end up back in my life at some point, and if he did, if he would stay.
As I began to swallow the most unfathomable words from his message, every belief I had in him was suddenly shot down.
Every night I pictured him wine-ing and dining me across Manhattan as we danced to old songs and met with a new love – that was all gone. Truth be told, my dreams were merely that, dreams.
An entire year has gone by since we last met and yet the way of his words makes it seem like just yesterday he was breaking my heart over the phone at two a.m. in the middle of June, just as the heat of the summer began to rise, as did the passion that set us apart.
Why is it that two years ago, in that very same June, I wasn’t able to push it away there?
And how come after triumph and tragedy and all that’s happened in our individual lives over these past two years, we’re still contemplating and arguing about nights to be spent in the city?
The same city we fell in love in, the same city that brought us together during our time of love, suddenly became the city that tore us apart.
It was no longer the city that connected our hearts, it was now the city that separated them.
And as I begin to go back to that very same city that made me feel the way I felt, I’ll begin to learn new things.
The same city I loved before him I’ll love after him, and no matter how many places he’s stamped on my path through my past life, nothing will stop my path to my future.