The Ex Files

I was being chased by a man who could create fire with the snap of his fingers.  No matter where I ran, he would follow, sadistically smiling as he set my world aflame. 

As he pursued, I ran...sometimes stumbled...sometimes fell...

Soon tiring from his pursuit,  I resigned to being burned alive...and curling my knees close to my chest...I sang...AMAZING GRACE. 

In my hour of need...in panic...I closed my eyes and sang at the top of my lungs. 

AMAZING GRACE.

The fire subsided and I woke with my heart beating fast, droplets of sweat formulating at the midpoint of my temple, and tears filling the corners of my eyes. 

Rolling over, I  reached for my phone, dialing the first few numbers of my ex, the person who  - in the twilight hours...1:28am...2:34am...4:14am... - had whispered me back to slumber: "Babe, go back to sleep." "Sweetie, is everything okay?"  "Love you Bree, don't worry.  It was just a dream."


But, it wasn't just a dream...

It was my first nightmare without him...and my first nightmare as a single woman....

Being single and dating in DC had been...okay....A Long Walk had started to call me at least twice a week, even though he still preferred to text constantly.  And, Big Chocolate was still attempting to unlock a desire to date him using his pretty, shitty key...

However...

In those quiet moments I could still remember the deepness of my ex's voice, the slight powdery smell of his skin,  the softness of the inside of his lips, the way it felt to turn over and pull his body close to mine, or wake up with my fingers lightly grazing the small curly hairs of his chest.

I still missed him...

Sometimes I still wanted us back together...

And I had to ask myself, in my persistence to enter the dating world while simultaneously attempting to heal...

Had I allowed the proper time to nurture the wound of my still broken heart?

In other words, how could I learn to miss someone in my present...if I was still missing someone from my past?

And...I was missing him...

Badly...

I was missing him in the first quiet moments of the morning hours, in those last few moments right before I fell asleep, and on nights like these when a nightmare reminded me that sleeping alone was not the exception but now the rule...

I never finished dialing his phone number that night.

After all, over is over is over is over.

He was no longer mine.  My dreams were no longer a concern of his.

I prayed for grace that night...relief from the fear I had to shut my eyes again...but deep in the recesses of my mind all I wanted to hear was the sweet, sweet sound of someone's voice who was now a difficult but deeply missed part of my past...

In Case of Emergency!

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My Saturday morning began like most, single women...lounging on my couch, in an oversized t-shirt flipping between E! and Bravo trying to catch the latest episode of True Hollywood Story or Real Housewives.  Vague thoughts of doing laundry and vacuuming scrubbed through my head as I settled deeper into the crevices of my couch. So, this is what being totally satiated feels like...

Then, I a gray spot move in my peripheral vision...

I thought for a moment, that the power of my lazy mind was willing my floor to clean itself...

Oh Bliss....Simple Bliss...A self-cleaning apartment....

Then the gray spot moved again...I turned my head, only to catch the tail end of Mickey scurry around the corner of my living room closet!

OH

MY

GOSH

Was that a mouse?

Was that a f**** mouse!!! 
(side note: I only reserve this word for the most dire situations)

I leaped off my couch, grabbing one knee-high boot, a cabbage-patch bedroom slipper, black lace bra (don't ask) and  my cell phone...ran out of my door....screaming the whole way down the hall...

THERE'S A MOUSE....IN MY HOUSE!  THERE'S A MOUSE...IN MY HOUSE!!

THERE'S A MOUSE...IN...MY...HOUSE!

My flamboyant gay neighbor delicately peaked his head outside his door, and after peering at me a through mascara-encased queer eye...shut the door!

I cursed!  Clearly he was hoping for a really hott, really available....straight guy!

I had to think!  I started scrolling through my phone book.  Mom (lived in Topeka - NO!), Ex Boyfriend (probably boning some chick - NO), My Girlfriends (would probably be just as scared as me - NO!)....so "in (this) case of emergency" I had to call my good male friend, Andrew!

......

In the dating world, every woman has an Andrew...   

...he's the shopping partner (even though he's straight), a shoulder to cry on (without minding the make-up streaks), an extra pair of hands around the house (including helping with mani's and pedi's), a Dr. Phil when you need advice...the resident GUY FRIEND!

 ...he's a good guy....and always available when the boyfriend leaves, the girlfriend flakes...or

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY....

So, I called Andrew...and after mumbling that it was 6:00am in the morning, he was hungover, was I really serious, he finally agreed to come over...

Hours later (okay really it was minutes) I was forced to return into the mouse hole that was now my place...and wait for Andrew on the top of my dining room table, holding my Raid Roach & Ant spray...

but it was okay...no really, it was okay...because Andrew was on his way....

"What a friend we have in those who call at 6am?"

"A friend indeed, is a friend in need!"

"Friends are like buses, you can't catch one every minute."

Okay, so I was horrible at friendship quotes...but I had to admit Andrew was a good one to meet me at 6:00 am to calm my rodent-inspired fears.

When Andrew got there.  He diligently searched every inch of my apartment, setting down mouse traps he had brought along...while I resumed by post back on top of the dining room table sharing Andrew-inspired friendship quotes for encouragement...

"If a friend falls in the forest and no one is around to hear, does he make a sound...."

"Is it better to have friended, than to never have friended at all." 

My quotes were getting better....I think.


After two hours...lack of new quoting material....and mouseless...Andrew offered to have me spend the night over his place in order to give Mickey a chance to get caught in one of the 50-eleven traps in my house.

YES!

Andrew cooked us dinner, and we sat and chatted.  It was just like having girl-talk, except he didn't have breasts.  We giggled about some of the awful dates we had been on, sipped on apple-flavored martinis with a cherry in the middle, shared a pint of raspberry sorbet (YUM), and watched the Devil Wears Prada!

When it was time to go to bed, I put on my doo-rag, settled on the couch, and waved him good-bye as he went into his bedroom and closed the door.

Somewhere between the butcrack of down and the 19 and half minutes after midnight, I heard a sound.

Then I felt a warm, soft object touch my waist and slowly begin moving upward.

Had Mickey followed me over to Andrew's house?

I jumped off the couch, and there was Andrew standing there, looming over the couch in his boxers, grinning like those axe murders in horror films... right before they behead unsuspecting girl.

Well, maybe not!  Don't blame me.  I don't have good night vision.

"What the hell are you doing, Andrew?" I screamed.

"I just thought I'd come out here and check on you," he said.

WTF!

"You're checking on me by trying to grab a handful of boob!  What is really going on here?"

"It's my house, Bree!  You're on my couch.  I thought I'd see what's up?"

I snatched up a pillow from the floor and pitched it at his head..

"Take me home!  Right Now!  You are totally out of line for this!! My boobs are none of your concern.  We are just friends!"

Just friends!

Weren't we just friends?

On the silent ride back home to my apartment, I vaguely listened as Andrew apologized over and over and over again for "the incident."  He offered to come upstairs, but a quick and evil glare solved that.

As I walked VERY, VERY, VERY slowly back to my place, terrified to spend the night alone with Mickey, I wondered....

Was Andrew really my boy friend, or guy who was secretly hedging his bets to become boyfriend?

When I opened the door to my place, I saw Mickey had been caught in the trap.

Instead of dialing mom, the ex, or Andrew the "boob-grabber", I decided to move past my "pull-up stage," put on my "I'm a grown a** woman" face, and dispose of it.

"Friends are like buses, you can't catch one every minute."

Or, however that saying goes....

I had to remember that - in myself - I could always find that friend I "needed"...even at 6am...and sometimes even IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.

Happy Endings

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America...land of the free, home of the brave...land of happy endings, and home of the happily ever afters. I may have spent my teens being a tomboy, but as a little girl, I was raised on the stories of Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Rapunzel.

These fictional but incredible women were always beautiful, impeccably dressed, effortlessly successful, and without a doubt always got their Price Charming at the end. Throw a few vertically challenged men with outrageous personalities, animals that speak like humans, and little people with wings and magic wands...and you have yourself a good story.

Twenty-something years later, I have put my childhood story books away, but I sometimes still wonder if fairy tales are folklore meant for children, or if as an adult you can really have a happily-ever-after ending?

I saw my ex for the first time in almost a month when he stopped by to return my things. He walked in carrying my belongings in a white, trash bag. Four years of constant sleepovers, weekend visits, and casual Sundays sharing our thoughts about politics and prose were being returned in a bag used to dispose of waste. We talked a bit about why we weren't a good fit for one another, and about the love that we still shared. We both knew it was over, but when it was time for him to leave, I had this overwhelming urge to ask him to stay.

He kissed my forehead, kissed me on the lips, and held me while I cried.

How does one say good-bye to an individual that had been a friend (and an enemy), a lover (and a fighter), a confidante (and a pain in the neck), and a fixture in my life for so long?

I couldn't find the strength to physically let him go. I wanted him to hold me forever and promise me that we, us, our love didn't have to end.

I was holding on to him, because physically, emotionally and metaphorically, I just could not let him go...

So, he let me go...and left me standing the doorway of my apartment tears gently falling on a small trash bag containing evidence of our past together.

There wouldn't be a happy ending for our story.

My phone rang...and stopped.

My phone rang again...and stopped again.

My phone rang yet again...and I saw it was a A Long Walk calling...

And though I probably shouldn't have picked up, I didn't want to be alone in that moment.

We chatted about the trivial things like "how was my day," "how was life," "how was the weather," but avoided the obvious question, "why he hadn't called after our first date."

Then, he mentioned he detected a hint of sadness in my voice.

Knowing I wouldn't risk alienating his interest since his interest was nonexistent, I told him about my ex, giving him details about my life with him.

He listened, and offered encouraging words. He was non-judgmental, patient, and sounded sincere when he said if I needed someone to talk to as I healed that he would want to be there. Then, he told me he would  take off his penis, if I needed him too...

...

...

...

...


After a moment of uncomfortable silence, and after taking a few seconds to figure out if that was biologically possible, I simply replied, "Thank You."

He chuckled and said, "do you want to know what that means?"

I didn't.  I mean, I really didn't.

Unfortunately for me, he continued. "By telling you that I would take my penis off," I held my breath, terrified to hear what was next, he continued, "I meant that you could call me and male bash your ex and all the other sorry men that did you wrong and I wouldn't say a word!"

Relief.

Sweet, sweet, sweet relief.

I was glad to know that A Long Walk didn't put his penis in a box every night before he went to sleep. At the same time, I was even more elated that he was willing to try and understand the foreign language that was girl talk.

Though still hurting from my ex's departure, I hung up with a smile on my face.

My second phone call with A Long Walk didn't involve casting him in the role of Prince Charming,  but A Long Walk had inadvertently played an integral part as a very important character, a character that I needed during the difficult process of stepping out of the past and into an uncertain future. This character was: A Potential Friend.

Maybe fairy tales do exist. Maybe this phone call was a Happy Ending in disguise.