When past relationships should stay in the past.
Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.
Placed those fingers on the computer keys, heart racing, and typed:
J … O … S …
You’ve googled your ex.
It even sounds salacious, doesn’t it?
At some point, don’t we all wonder, whether we loved them, hated them, broke their hearts, or had ours broken, what he’s been up to? Wondered how many kids he has? Wondered if he’s thought of you? And come on, if you haven’t thought, “I wonder if his wife is fat?” then you should stop reading this now, because clearly, you are too good of a person to be googling your ex.
I, however, am not.
So, you’ve googled an ex, maybe you found his e-mail address, and maybe your stomach churns a little with the wonder of it all. I know where he is. Maybe the thought that you can drive by his house, check to see if there’s a Big Wheel or a dolly stroller in the driveway excites you a little bit? You could do that, right? That wouldn’t be illegal or anything, would it?
So, one day, maybe, you’re mad at your husband, and you say “screw it” and then e-mail the ex.
And then, three days later, you get a message back from him.
And you kind of freak, but you’re also kind of excited, in that “He asked me to prom, but I know he smokes pot” kind of excitement, like you want to go to prom with him, but you know it would be bad news.
Because you’ve just had your third kid, and you’re feeling kind of frumpy, and you’re postpartum, but you e-mail back: “Hey there! I’m totally great! Happily married with three beautiful, healthy kids! How are you?”
The e-mail dance continues. You’re getting to the point where the dance chaperones would come and hold a ruler between the two of you, to make sure the distance was safe. It’s getting unsafe at this e-mail dance. And the songs are the songs from back then. You know them. I don’t need to tell you what songs they are. We all have them. The ones that make us remember those moments.
