I had a bizarre little weekend….and it started like this.

There is no more accurate a method of self-reflection than that of reliving your formative years through the eyes of someone who knew you long ago, and if they happen to also be your ex, so much the better.

And no, I am not referring to Fuckhead – for once. An ex was in town this weekend…well, maybe ‘ex’ is too strong a term. Allow me to elaborate. JD was my first ‘crush’, back when I was introverted and could barely justify wearing a training bra and his head had yet to grow into his ears. He was my first kiss, my first….well – as the years went by, spending time with him became more of an educational experience than a romantic experience. Ironically, as time has worn on, I believe I’m the one who eventually received an instructional diploma in sex ed where he has yet to graduate. 

And so it was in high school, and winter breaks in college throughout the years our tradition has continued. Nearly every Christmas/New Years we would see each other, have dinner and then make out on my parent’s couch like it was 1996 – not particularly because he had become so much better looking in his old age, or that I was irristably drawn to him. It was because this is what we did – this is what we’ve always done, this is what I was obgligated to do.

And this Friday, he was in town. Having dodged our annual encounter back in December for a lack of emotional social acceptability, I was actually looking forward to seeing him. I was a bit nervous – as I had never even seen this boy outside of our hometown. How does one make reservations if I don’t know if he likes wine, beer, Italian, Mexican….so I chose a truly unique spot, for the ambience – Bistro du Coin. Perfect choice.

I won’t bore you with the details of our evening of catching up and reminicing other than to say that the man has certainly learned how to charm a lady over the years. Oh – and I WILL mention the most AMAZING bottle of wine I’ve ever had in my life.

The end of the evening came, he walked me home, he came up to my apartment. He kissed me goodnight. It was a good kiss. However, I informed him that he would not be going any farther. I told him I couldn’t. And that I wouldn't. Thankfully, he bowed out gracefully. He was gracious enough to accept my decision without complaint, sans typical horny boy pouting. I thanked him for a wonderful evening, and he left.

In the nearly eighteen years that I have known this man, I have NEVER said no to him. He was my first ‘un-getable man’. He was the boy I pined after, obsessed over in diaries, and when he finally noticed me, finally paid attention to me…well, I didn’t want him to STOP liking me (pathetic, I know)….so I never said ‘no’….until Friday night. I abandoned my feelings of obligation. I broke the cycle. I didn't do what I didn't want to do. And I went to bed alone. And it felt good. And I kept something that is slowly becoming an increasingly valuable possession….myself.

Frankly, I don’t know if that makes any sense…but I still thought I’d share.