Uh-oh. We're old.

Wow. Just... wow.

I just have to tell you, in case you didn't know, that this world is just a weird, weird place and just when you think "THAT'S IT, that's as weird as it's going to get!", it will proceed to get weirder.

First, I have discovered that my karaoke masterpiece is Hey Ya by Outkast. Also, if you shove enough liquor down Lindsey's throat, The Boys Are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy becomes OH MY GOD HER FAVORITE SONG EVER WE HAVE TO SIT IN THE CAR AND LISTEN TO IT EXCLAMATION EXCLAMATION !!!

Thirdly, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Or something. I hung out with one of the fellows on Saturday who I mentioned here not too long ago. It's funny, because I've recently run into another one of those fellows several times and it's been nice, friendly, refreshingly bygones-are-bygones, and I've been able to put to rest some residual guilt and anger that had been hanging around for a while. So Saturday we went out for Lindsey's birthday and this other one came, and I literally haven't seen him in many years, at least 8 or 9 years, and it was sort of nice and weird and uncomfortable and normal all at once. He seemed uncomfortable at first, but as the drinks continued to flow he loosened up considerably and by the end of the night we were having conversations and giving each other high-fives and everything was fine.

The most interesting part of all of that was that at some point he leaned over to me and said, "Hey, I'm really sorry." I asked what he was sorry about, and he replied, "How I was back then." I smiled and said thank you, and then asked if we could not talk about that stuff. He said sure, and dropped it. I just figured that what Lindsey wanted for her thirtieth birthday was NOT for me to sit at the table and have some kind of come-to-Jesus with some guy I broke up with ten years ago. Besides that, I'm not really sure what could be said.

Now I'm hoping that he meant it, and wishing I had said a quick "I'm sorry too" before I put the matter to rest. I'm pretty sure that it was wrong of me not to have accepted some responsibility too, even if it was a ten-second conversation.

I can't even express how surprising it was for him to acknowledge that he had ever done anything wrong at all, ever, as it was always just generally accepted as fact that I had totally screwed the poor little guy over, that he was wonderful and sweet and I was the most horrible person in the world for having done him so wrong. The reality was that the majority of our relationship was spent fighting, having these terrible, volatile screaming matches during which we called each other the most horrible names we could think of. If I ever wanted to leave his side for any reason whatsoever, he was sure that I was cheating, that there was someone else, that I was out to make him look like a chump and he wasn't having any of it. Actually, I just had a couple of girlfriends who sometimes wanted to do something besides sitting around in the dirtiest bachelor pad ever drinking beer and sniffing dog shit. Occasionally they'd invite me to go places with them, and I wanted to go. Clearly I am just EVIL, right?

Anyways, point is, I'm sorry too, and if I thought hey, if I see him again, I'll tell him. BUT, but, at the end of the night I leaned over to him and said, "Hey, thank you for saying that." He said, "Saying what?" "Apologizing. That was nice." "Apologizing for what?" "Uh, for how you were back then?" He replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

So, yeah. NICE. I have absolutely no idea if he's just that forgetful, or if he was just that drunk, or if I embarrassed him somehow and he wanted to pretend that he hadn't said it. All I know is that, surprise!, it somehow negates it that he suddenly was like "wah?" about the whole thing. So, you know, anger and resentment back on!

Hit me again, Ike! And this time, put some stank on it!

Have you ever seen any of your exes in a store and ducked or turned the other way in hopes of not having to talk to them?

I have in my wake a long string of boys who think I am a devil woman and that our relationships went horribly awry on account of ME, my being a CUNT and a BITCH and a, dare I say, WHORE who should just FUCK OFF ALREADY.

Hey, mama! Jason, what's up?

Anyway, I have a few things that I would like to say (what else is new?).

Firstly, not ALL of my exes think all that about me. There are some who smile when they see me, introduce themselves to Jason and Reed and act politely and we all are fine about everything.

Secondly, those who DO feel that way about me, I have always wished that these guys could take another look at the relationships that we had, the absolute horror of it all and how terribly wrong it was and how after a while, neither of us was happy any more. There are a couple in particular that I'm thinking of where they boys hated me particularly badly after it was all over and I was left standing there going, Wait, you are mourning the ending of this clusterfuck? 'Cause I thought there would be, like, confetti and some champagne and handshakes and shit, so I am just really confused that you seem to be suggesting that you thought we ought to continue this charade of bad sex, near-violence, name-calling and black-out drinking.

I mean, looking back I can honestly say that I was a shitty girlfriend some of the time, but if we're really going to be truthful wouldn't we say that you fuckers were SHITTY boyfriends some of the time as well? Really, do you think I enjoyed being called a bitch and being yelled at every time I wanted to go somewhere with my girlfriends and being dropped like a hot potato every time one of your friends wanted to go to the movies and being next in line behind your brother and fourteen other fucking punks*? DO YOU? Because I can tell you I did NOT, in fact, enjoy that shit. And I say again, I was sort of a crapshoot as well.

The POINT is that there really wasn't much worth salvaging in those relationships, and I ended them because we were both miserable and mean and totally self-absorbed and nothing good was ever going to come of it. And what happens next is I am a pariah, spit upon by all your friends some of whom are MY friends and WERE my friends since before we dated, and I'm a BITCH CUNT WHORE who ripped your world apart and shit on you and laughed in your face, and all your/our/my friends are just really uncomfortable with the way I just FUCKED YOU OVER so hardcore, and they must remind me about it every time they see me by sneering and cold-shouldering and whatnot. Hey, it's cool, it's fine, I'm not bitter about it or anything.

I'm just not totally comfortable with those labels.

Anyways, I have recently started talking to a fellow who I used to be really good friends with and who is still really good friends with one of those exes. It makes me think about how a couple of those relationships, somewhere on the inside of them, I started wishing that I was best friends with the boy instead of his girlfriend. Because if we were best friends we would have been able to enjoy everything that was so good about the relationship without all the yelling and anger and supsicion and bitterness. And when I started wishing that is when I thought, WOAH, clearly we are not meant to be, right? I mean, if you're thinking "I'd really rather take So-And-So to the movies than Buffy" and I'm thinking "Wow, this would be great if we didn't have to fuck", IT JUST HAS TO BE A SIGN, OKAY?

So what is my point in all this? I don't really have one. Ha! I just like talking about how slutty I am.

*I'd just like to also say BROS BEFORE HOS and all that fucking bullshit but if two people are really suited for each other let's hope that you don't really have to make a choice between your bro and your ho, right? I generally don't have to choose between Jason (my ho) and Kristi or Lindsey or anyone else (my bros): it just doesn't work that way.