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You’ve all heard me wax on about the mysterious BF. Sometimes I hate him, most times I am quite fond of him, and more often, I don’t even think about it. We have that sort of relationship – pretty easy and then we hit a rough spot. The BF always comes through, though. My girlfriends have taken to turning a deaf ear to my BF-bashing when it occurs – they know I will inevitably return to my BF-is-wonderful mindset after a couple days anyway. The self-proclaimed Drama Queen that I am, I typically make the most of the rocky times. Makes for a good laugh with the BF later on. I have to say I’m pretty happy. How could I not be? He’s good-looking, smart, funny and the most fun. And as for the sex…to quote Miranda (SATC), “there are no words”.
So why on earth would I even consider entertaining the idea of sex with an ex? First of all (just in case he’s reading this), I wouldn’t. But I’m quite certain that for most of us, especially in times of trouble (real or imagined), we might. I’ll address the reasons why later. Just another Tuesday at work. It was about that time of the day when lunch (if I had the time to have taken one) would have kicked in, rendering me sleepy and antsy at the same time. No one’s around, so I check my personal e-mail (I love www.webbox.com – I log into e-mail more there than I do at home). I notice a name I haven’t seen in a while – almost ten years to be exact. An e-mail from (could it be?) a guy I dated at nineteen and haven’t seen since I was at least 24. I was curious. He found me at www.classmates.com (I only logged on once to check out a reunion happy hour event for my graduating class). Asked me the general questions. What was I doing? Was I married again? Any children? You know, typical catching-up type inquiries that one would expect from someone we once knew quite well and haven’t seen for ages. I responded and asked some questions of my own. Apparently, I neglected to mention the BF, but I did mention this website. He wanted to know more about me, who I was now, what kind of person had that nineteen year-old turned in to. What better way to show him, I thought.
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