Mary B and the City

Ex feet under.

My life continually manifests through themes. Well this last week has distinctly been focused on former flings.

First up is the Quarterback. During my 30-day dating binge in November, QB was the only one who I had any kind of quasi history with, so was consequently the only guy I shared full disclosure regarding my Mr. Big reunion. He handled my early retirement incredibly well and wished me good luck to boot. Since then we’ve kept in touch by way of texting and turns out he really, really wanted the borrowed orange Banana Republic tee back in his possession. Some people in my circle speculated he just wanted a reason to see me; I however wasn’t convinced that was the case. So I finally arranged for us to meet up on neutral territory last Thursday – the gym. Although our electronic demeanor was friendly and upbeat, the same tone didn’t quite translate in-person.

Through our prior sporadic messaging I had mentioned my 10K training* (I use that term* very loosely), knowing he’d appreciate it considering I’ve always been an anti-runner and he is an avid pavement pounder. So we chatted at the end of our individual workouts for maybe 90 seconds about my pathetic knees and amateur-level endurance, I handed him the returned apparel in a Target bag, and we said good-bye, sans hug. That aspect is what left me feeling luke warm about the experience, but considering we were both covered in sweat, any embrace probably would have been sticky…literally & metaphorically.

While retelling this same story to a good girl friend of mine the other day (who had met him on two occasions), she explained that right after my sudden and indefinite breakup from dating, QB searched for, found & contacted her through Facebook, asking if she could “somehow do something – I really like her.” That news threw me off. Not only that it was unexpected he’d reached out to my comrade for back-up reinforcement, but sweet he thought she could somehow impact my decision to date him. Well she obviously never attempted to do anything, let alone even tell me he did that, knowing I was focused on attempting to fix things with Mr. Big.

Next in the valiant recasting line-up has been the Artist. We never actually met in person (I had canceled our date due to unforeseen circumstances aka being swept away in a surprise limo excursion), but had i-chatted over Gmail. Ever since I told him I was getting off the singles market, he has texted a few times. The last “check in” I candidly explained that I’ve officially reunited with a former long-term relationship. Well the other day while signed in to check my email, he must have seen my screen name & started typing away. I’ve now set my account to invisible.

Then I got a friend request complemented by an email through Facebook from another guy (never even nicknamed him, that’s how insignificant he was at the time). “I don’t know why but something compelled me to search for you on here. Since I found you, figured I’d reach out and see how you’re doing.” Ugh, this is a classic example of the love/hate relationship I have with the World Wide Web. I wrote back a very brief response, purposefully not asking him any questions in hopes of not starting a running dialogue. But of course, he did anyway, “Well to tell you what I’ve been up to…”

An incredibly creepy guy from The Match also contacted me through my personal, private page – I never responded to his (multiple) winks or email requests on the actual dating site, so why does he think it’d somehow work on a social networking site? First a poke, then a friend request. Negative, Creepy McCreeperson.

Finally, Hokie and I have had a limited handful of communication over the last 6 months, most recently thru an evite to a fundraising event he is hosting. We ended on friendly terms over the summer so I have absolutely no issue with supporting a cause important to him in a public forum. Then just yesterday I noticed he mentioned my company’s #1 competitor in his Facebook status with regards to his dog. I commented and suggested using our products instead. Next thing I know, a text message is coming through asking what I’m up to. In the middle of a business day, I respond “at work” to which a quick reply reads, “Oh MaryB…I heart you.”

• Lesson #1: If you participate in and/or open up communication with a former fling – they may very well take that as an opportunity to reengage. Even if you’re innocently being friendly and talking on equal playing fields, its best to just zip the lip. You think the past is buried six feet under, when in fact, exs notoriously try to come back from the dead.
• Lesson #2: Even though you’ve disabled an online dating profile and canceled membership from Match.com months ago, don’t think you’re in the clear. They will find you.
• Lesson #3: You will begin to resent Facebook.
• Lesson #4: Despite that you’ve told ex manfriends you’re solely dating another ex manfriend, they don’t necessarily take that as truth. Or maybe they just don’t care. Be aware of their “next at bat” stance in case “at bat man” doesn’t hit a homerun.
• Lesson #5: Even with your best effort, you’ll still likely manage to handle run-ins with past potential partners over par.

The original subject matter and intended climax of this blog post was going to be based around the age-old dispute, “Can you be friends with an ex?” But apparently… I’ve just answered my own question.

Back from the dead.

So I’ve been knee deep in husband shopping, minding my own business, dating as if I’m on payroll. Then wake up from a very, very late night at a dear friend’s wedding reception over the weekend…when Mr. Ex pops up on my Palm’s 2”x2” screen. He asked to please talk at my convenience, in person. Within minutes, my only sister by blood tells me Mr. Ex has reached out to her too, hoping to talk. Suddenly I feel like the stereotypical guy who hears the “T” word and freezes.

I’m immediately taken back to a season six scene in Sex & The City where Carrie is moving on with her love life and Mr. Big tries to come back. She has a compelling and passionate monologue right before she’s moving to Paris with her new Love-ah Aleksandr, and candidly tells him, “You do this every time! *Every* time! What? Do you have some sort of radar? Carrie might be happy - it’s time to sweep in and shit all over it? Oh, it’s never different! It’s six years of *never* being different! This is it! I am done! Don’t call me ever again! Forget you know my number! In fact, forget you know my name! And you can drive up this street all you want - because I don’t live here any more.”

It has been exactly one year since I joined the single ladies club. Him and I had been dating on and off for 70% of the last decade, and the past dozen months have been our longest stretch of separation. In order to embrace the new chapter of my life sans Mr. Ex (formerly ‘Mr. Big’ before the breakup), I decided to treat the relationship’s ending as a death. It was the only way I could conceive of moving forward and not emotionally live in limbo until our next inevitable reunion. Literally I envisioned our courtship as a body that had been on life support at the very end, the plug was pulled, and there was no bringing it back. “We” died and it was time to mourn and move on.

I’ve changed, grown, healed, and had a metamorphosis of my own in 2009.  I’m certain that he too along the way has also undergone a transformation.

Someone asked me recently if Carrie and Mr. Big had not gotten married, do I think she would have ever gotten over him. My answer was no. Yes she would have found someone else (an Aiden) who made her happy, but there would always be a piece of her heart that belonged to him.

Although it is a bit silly, and equally eerie, how much my relationship has meticulously mirrored this HBO-scripted show [he is even mentioned in my blog’s bio for goodness sake] I can’t deny that after seeing the movie & the couple finally moving forward to marriage on their own terms, that I too thought maybe our reality would continue to mimic the plot. But I have never been one to dream in a clouded Disney cartoon fantasy frame of mind. In fact, I often see the world through black and white vision. Yet, I’m also someone who is a colorful, hopeless romantic and appreciates another quote of CB, “It wasn’t logic, it was love.”

Without naming names, and if they weren’t subject to a jail sentence, there are friends of mine who would scalp the guy with their own bare hands for his stunts. Not to mention a family who exhausted their patience and respect of our roller coaster ride, and would have to dig deep inside for forgiveness. So to even consider bringing something back from the dead that is buried 6 feet under is beyond my understanding.

And at the same time I also can’t begin to articulate, comprehend or explain the magnetic fields, a fundamental law of attraction that exists between us. I’ve never in all my life felt someone’s soul, their actual presence, touch mine. Without a shadow of doubt I believe our purpose in each others walk on earth is much larger and purposeful than what my simple mind can fathom.

In the past, I was a moth. I was a character in my own life. Now I sport a butterfly outfit and wear the director’s hat. But he is still my flame.

I’m meeting Mr. Ex tonight with no agenda, no preconceived notions, no motive. My heart and I are going with a clean slate onto the next scene.