Not Friends with an Ex

So, the big one. I promised I would write about the doozy of an ex-boyfriend who I am no longer in contact with.

And then he went and called me. Sonofabitch!

About two months ago, I was watching TV with my roommate, and seriously close to going to bed. It was almost 11 p.m., and I was falling asleep on the sofa, which is never a good thing. Then the phone rang. I recognized the area code as Chicago (where he used to live), and thought to myself, what the hell…maybe it’s a telemarketer. So, I answered, mostly out of curiosity, and there was no one on the other line. I hung up.

One minute passes, and the phone rings again. Same number. I answer it. Again. This time a voice: “Hello, I am looking for MY NAME.”

I responded, “Rob? It’s me.” Of course, at this point, the roommate is interested, and so I am trying to motion and mouth who it is (she knows the whole story—which, by the way, is long and arduous to tell, if you want to know the truth). I take the call into the other room. As soon as I shut the door, I say, “Why are you calling me?” I have no fear and nothing to lose at this point, right?

And then, what I feared the most, happened: he tried to explain. Everything. And he tried to apologize. Now, I have not spoken to Rob in almost two years. But, in the past, our conversations tended to be on the near side of three plus hours. As soon as the first few sentences came out of his mouth, I feared for my phone bill. Why the hell did I answer! Damn you, Queen of Mean!!

Then, like it was 1945, he dropped The Bomb. He was getting married.

Now, this has happened to me before—shocking, right? Not really. If you knew the assholes I’ve dated…

Anyway, and I really couldn’t help myself, the first thing out of my mouth was, “Why!?” Then I corrected myself, “Why are YOU getting married?”

And do you EVEN know what he said? I mean, talk about the most perfectly delivered line of my life: “Because I found someone who will put up with me.” That’s EXACTLY what he said. Holy schnikey! Are you kidding me? Not only was that opening windows of opportunity for me, but the front door, garage door, and whole goddam roof!

I responded, “You’re serious? She puts up with you?”

This is not happening. Ohmygod, you cannot make this stuff up!

And then, Hiroshima again: “You are always going to be the one who got away.”

OH, COME ON. I could not believe my ears. I started to try and get out of the impending marathon conversation, and thought I had heard it all, but then, and I kid you not, he said, “Can we talk again, you know, be friends?”

Now, mind you, if I had absolutely no class, tact, or heart, I would have hung up right then, or just laughed in his face. So I foolishly said, “I will let you know,” leading him to think that I might, when in fact, I do not ever wish to speak to him again. And on top of that, I hope there is no wedding. I hope by that divine intervention, or stroke of luck, that someone tells that girl what she’s in for.

Rob cheated on me, on the girl before me, before her, and so on. He’ll never not cheat. He’s also a drunkard. And insanely cocky. And honestly, not even that attractive. Certainly, I am out of his league. And part of me wishes I had thought more of myself when I was with him, without him, and back with him. But I do now, and that’s ultimately what's important.

Queen of Mean