Before you roll your eyes, it’s not that ex, it’s a different one. We’ll call him Big. Big and I broke up in October 2020 because of creative differences: he imagined himself as alive, while I saw him dead! *cue “Chicago” soundtrack*
Just kidding, I didn’t kill him and bring him back to life, but something similar can be said, since our relationship ended and (dare I say it?) right now there is a glimmer – a speck – of hope that are on again.
My close friends asked me, “Why?” And to them I replied, “Because I kept missing him.”
You see, I do think breakups happen for a reason. But that doesn’t mean getting-back-together’s have no reason. And my reasons, if I can say so myself, are pure. Because I didn’t text him on a whim, or because I was inebriated; I was sober as a judge and I had been thinking about him in a way that I can say truthfully felt like more than the usual “what if?” blues.
We’ve been apart for, like I said, for four months, and he hasn’t contacted me at all during that time. So yeah, I made initial contact, as I am wont to do.
As it stands right now: we like each other, and we plan to see one another soon. It’ll be like a sit-down with the Delancey’s; it’ll be like two mob bosses meeting to discuss the terms of a deal (a shady, dangerous, exciting deal.)
I feel hopeful, like I said, but I don’t like to count the chicken before the egg hatches. Eggs are delicate, you know, but also very strong, structurally. Have you ever tried to hold an egg in your fist and crush it? It’s impossible. I dare you.
Tangents aside – I have another piece of exciting new: someone commented on my posts and asked me to talk about sex and masturbation.
At first I thought it might be a prank, but then I realized the commenter was being genuine. I’ll write another post about it, because I think these topics can take up a lot of words.
Stay sexy, my friends,