Being an ex is a funny thing; when I am in between relationships, I spend some of time—not a lot mind you—thinking about the last person I was involved with. Not because I’m still hung up on that person, but because he’s the last frame of reference I have to being at-arms-length intimate with. And I don’t wax poetic about the ex, it’s more…thoughtful than that. I’ll see a book by an author he revered and my first thought will be to take a photo of it and send it to him. I’ll hear a phrase he used that is coming out of someone else’s mouth and do a double take. I’ll swipe on the dating apps and see him there and know, he’s still as lonely as I am. I don’t have the impulse to reconcile, I don’t miss him, I don’t really want any sincere engagement; I just like swimming in the thoughts. They’re comforting. To me, at least. Because at some point, I’m not longer an ex. And then all my thoughts, the trite and the sincere, go in this very one swirl of a direction. And that, well, that’s comforting too.
I love this idea, thought, of texts you’d want to send your ex. Some of them are just gold, like this one: “I should have hit you harder with my car.”
I really like knowing what an OK Cupid moderator deems as going too far. By the way, I’m planning on breaking up with my array of dating apps on my birthday, which is in March.
So a girl walks into a BDSM party…
Oh look a vagina showcase that a male doctor put together. Quel surprise.
Oh, so this is why my dog is so needy, because he’s adopted my personality traits!
Speaking of dogs, I present the link to the stage moms of the Westminster dogs.
Okay, even a ten minute sequel to Love Actually makes me go squeeeeee.
Concerns that Melania may have.
Oh her husband and his deep thoughts at a press conference on Thursday.
Michaela Angela Davis, goddess.
And now have a laugh with Emma Willmann.