I’m so bored right now. The belated end of year heat is finally starting to set in which, staying in the West, means that I’m too damn lazy to go out, or do anything productive at home, or even get out of bed. In fact I’ve spent the most of today in bed. Today’s menu special is 500g of prime cut lethargy served with a special yawn sauce.
I’ll have to get out of bed eventually though as I have dinner plans tonight. Dinner… with my ex. Dun Dun Dunnnnn…. *end dramatic theme*
To me, it’s no big deal. However, apparently my mom begs to differ. When she found out my plans she was all “But whhyyy?? It’s a bad idea!!!”. And she felt the need to repeat that many times over the last few days. So, what’s the big deal?
Many people still attach this stigma to meetings with ones ex. The big question is, why? Well actually I know why, and that in many cases this is a valid concern and I’ll concede that. I’ll also concede that no one has any idea of an individuals intentions besides each of the party’s themselves.
My mum subscribes to the school of thought where it’s very easy for people to let their guard down, let fond memories wash over, share thoughts of any regrets, and boom… sweet nookie ensues. And she’s probably correct for the most part.
That being said, it’s also possible for two parties to just remain good friends and share a platonic relationship just like any and every other, which is the school that I subscribe to. Only because I know myself, and I’m an arrogant prick when it comes to the “Nah it’ll never happen to me…” chest thump of self-assurance. Words that I’ve admittedly come to eat, in double helpings, many a time.
But all that aside, why shouldn’t we remain friends with our ex’s? In fact, I would go as far as to say that ex-partners should be some of the most important people that we keep in our lives. Poisonous, psycho, and vindictive ex’s aside by the way. I’m talking about just normal ex’s whom have gone their own way, and we ours.
Long time ex-relationships are really a precious thing, and one that should be maintained where possible. Assuming they aren’t still secretly burning a candle for you of course. There is no friend that knows you better than a long time ex-partner whom you’ve shared every part of your soul with. Who knows you inside out and back to front. Whom can read your mind and finish your sentences. Who know all your dreams, ideals, and hopes for the future. Who knows just how the hell your dirty mind works.
There are not many people in this life you will meet that will ever know you with the same depth that they do. For me, every ex I have been with has had a huge positive impact on my life in some way. They’ve all hand a hand in shaping my beliefs, contributed towards my ultimate point of life actualisation, and generally just made me the person I am today. And of course, playing a huge role in helping me to discover exactly the type of girl that I want to spend the rest of my life with.
If it wasn’t for my ex’s, I would have thought (back then) that any girl just like my ex would be that girl. Thankfully, oh god thankfully, their presence had ensured that it wasn’t. Those old relationships, and their ensuing failure, and allowed me to learn and further detail my criteria for a future partner.
These are all wonderful and rare attributes to have in a friend. So what’s the problem? Sex apparently… fucking sex. The spirit of attraction. And therein lies the Achilles heel to these so called platonic relationships. It’s very easy to have a D&M conversation with an ex. It’s usually an inevitable topical graduation when conversing with someone whom knows you so well.
D&M’s are great, but can also be dangerous, especially if either of you are undergoing emotional or relationship distress at the time. Hell, historically, D&Ms are probably the leading cause of me ending up inside a place where I really shouldn’t have been. Or internal trespassing as I call it.
Some would say the greatest panty remover for women is money, drugs, or alcohol. No argument from me, but I would go one further and add a +1 to that list. A listening ear. Knowing how to listen can get a guy laid as easily as any of those things. And that is one of the lessons that Erica has been trying to teach me. Listening is in my nature. I live to listen, and to help, and damn has that gotten me in hot water too many times to count. But it did eventually get me Erica, so for that, I’m glad for this trait.
The only reason that listening is such an aphrodisiac is sadly because not enough people listen. If you’re listening, she’ll pour her heart out to you. If she’s pouring her heart out to you, she trusts you. If she trusts you, she’s bringing her emotions to the surface to show you. If she’s laying the cathartic relief of baring her emotions to you, she’s associating that pleasurable relief with your presence. If she associates your presence with a positive emotive response… look out.
So yes, I guess meeting the ex does have it’s dangers after all. But for me, I think that we generally can prepare ourselves somewhat for it. Speaking for myself, part of it is the simple realisation that there is no way that anything will happen between us. I know that nothing will happen between us purely because I know that something COULD happen between us.
In other words, I know, for fact, that everybody is capable to cheating. EVERYBODY. All it takes is the right combination of factors and boom… regrets. Only by realising that something could happen, can we take the steps to do the best we can to ensure that nothing does happen. To stay alert for warning signs, to back off if danger encroaches, to break glass and grab the axe in case of fire. For to be forewarned is forearmed.
And so because I know that something could happen, however conceivably and mathematically remote, I know that nothing will happen.
Lucky for me, my ex isn’t the epitomy of absolute and total hotness, because that would now be a completely different story 😛
I can’t believe this turned into another essay. All I wanted to say is that my mom is wrong and that I wasn’t going to bone my ex. Geez, can’t I ever just keep it short?