close encounters of the ex kind
the good thing about my exes is that once i've exited the relationship, they never re-enter. no awkward face-to-face encounters out of the blue, no social circle overlap, no girlfriends that want my leftovers. then again, the downside is that this probably reinforces the theory that my exes were all losers. ouch.
see, i don't really believe that. until i was chatting away with my stylist as she touched up my highlights (i've gone from purple to hot pink, but how long can i pull this off?). our conversation leapfrogged from my family friend's wedding to my recent nyc trip to her recent nyc trip to her lil miss drama girlfriend who went with her to lil miss drama's buddy who had hit it off with my stylist recently thus provoking a bit of jealousy from lil miss drama-rama!
my stylist is describing how she hit it off with the dude: since she's married with a kid (and has the most bubbly personality, in my opinion), she's safe and easy to talk to. so within a few times of hanging out, the guy is telling her how he doesn't want to be single anymore and wants to find the right woman.
so, i perk up and shift into matchmaking mode. what does he look like? what kind of girls does he like? what does he do? where's he from? his name doesn't happen to be --? oh boy. no way! the world is too small. as i go under the heater/dryer thing, she asks me how i know him, and isn't he kind of an asshole? and why does he tell her that he's racist? and does he drink too much? i'm struck by the force of time and how much it has displaced me from my past. all i can tell her is that i haven't spoken to him in years, so i don't know, but i had thought that underneath it all, he had a good heart.
half an hour later, she's trimming my bangs, and i tell her that we can't be thinking of the same person. there are plenty of ____ and ____ guys who do ______ and come from ______ and are named ______. tons of 'em. she's eager to agree: okay. okay. whew.
see, i don't really believe that. until i was chatting away with my stylist as she touched up my highlights (i've gone from purple to hot pink, but how long can i pull this off?). our conversation leapfrogged from my family friend's wedding to my recent nyc trip to her recent nyc trip to her lil miss drama girlfriend who went with her to lil miss drama's buddy who had hit it off with my stylist recently thus provoking a bit of jealousy from lil miss drama-rama!
my stylist is describing how she hit it off with the dude: since she's married with a kid (and has the most bubbly personality, in my opinion), she's safe and easy to talk to. so within a few times of hanging out, the guy is telling her how he doesn't want to be single anymore and wants to find the right woman.
so, i perk up and shift into matchmaking mode. what does he look like? what kind of girls does he like? what does he do? where's he from? his name doesn't happen to be --? oh boy. no way! the world is too small. as i go under the heater/dryer thing, she asks me how i know him, and isn't he kind of an asshole? and why does he tell her that he's racist? and does he drink too much? i'm struck by the force of time and how much it has displaced me from my past. all i can tell her is that i haven't spoken to him in years, so i don't know, but i had thought that underneath it all, he had a good heart.
half an hour later, she's trimming my bangs, and i tell her that we can't be thinking of the same person. there are plenty of ____ and ____ guys who do ______ and come from ______ and are named ______. tons of 'em. she's eager to agree: okay. okay. whew.