Bend me, shape me, any way you want me.

A funny thing has been happening over the last 10 days.

Ex-Ex e-mails me. Like, every day. Like, he looks for excuses to e-mail me.

Do I have recommendations for yoga studios? Or hey, he was at Neil Diamond last night, and here’s a picture of Neil.


Keep in mind that Ex-Ex and I had the mother of all break-ups. The fact that we are on friendly-ish terms is, to put it bluntly, fucking amazing. With an extra “Holy shit!” thrown in for emphasis.

So, today I was in a two-hour meeting that ran three hours. Tempers were flaring and I was exhausted. And towards the end of this marathon, I received an e-mail from Ex-Ex. Would I like to meet in half an hour for a beer?

At that point, I would have made the beer myself if it meant enjoying a frosty brew. Plus, I was curious. What the hell does this guy want, anyway?

Well, one beer and an hour and a half later (yeah, I nursed that drink), I can tell you. What he wants is … an audience.

He just talks. He doesn’t ask a lot, and he doesn’t listen a lot. But he talks. A lot.

Part of me thinks, “Did I really spend seven years of my life smiling and nodding like this?”

But mostly, mostly I think that in my last two relationships, I was appreciated for how I fit into my boyfriends’ lives and met their expectations. I was not necessarily loved for who I am as a person, as an individual.

I was exhausted when I parted ways with Ex-Ex tonight. Perhaps he is lonely. Perhaps he needs the ego stroke of thinking we’re friends. Perhaps I don’t care.

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