Day 7: My Ex-Boyfriend

I've rewritten this post four or five times in my head and the drafts are generally sounding like inadvertent, wound-up verbal attacks on the existence of my teenagerhood. So, I'm going with this version and throwing it out there.

I'm going to be honest here. This post came at an interesting time for me. I spent time this weekend catching up with the guy I used to be with in high school.

As we talked, that illusive, mutual desire hovered over us like a cloud, the reason any conversation existed at all: C L O S U R E.

We hadn't talked in three years. Now, we talked about everything. All the things I wanted to talk about and all the things I didn't. It's kind of like physical therapy, where you have to undergo unexpected, weird discomfort in order to feel better. At the same time, it was almost like a case study, an interesting episode in the pasts of two now-better people.

I'm glad that by the end of the night we were having conversations like this:

"I think I always knew we could be friends," he said.

And I think I'm learning how to be friends with someone who was a better friend than anything all along.