The EX Factor

Life. You cannot control what happens; no matter how high the high, the only place to go is down.

We’d been dating two years, 18 months were spent living together. We were that couple everyone wanted to be. Physically and esthetically complimentary to one another; we made each other better in every way. I had found him, my partner in crime, and it changed everything.

When I moved to New York we were still dating, but as the black sedan pulled away from our place I knew deep down it would be the last time I would see him. A couple of weeks later our relationship ended.

The fantasy was finished. Everything had been turned upside down in an instant; moving away only made it all the more clear. It was over and I haven’t looked back since, until now. 

Let’s call him The Ex.

Years had gone by, two and a half to be exact, and not one word, email, or text message had passed between us. When it’s over it’s over; I had never been one to dwell on the past.

When I arrived back to the ‘scene of the crime’ to cover an event for an international publication, the last thing I expected was to see him; we had been so good at avoiding each other for so long. 

Never having kept in touch with an ex boyfriend, something made me want to change that. Even though The Ex broke my heart and made me question everything I thought I knew about love, I didn’t hate him. Why couldn’t we be friends? I emailed him. Just a few words, a peace offering and the suggestion to grab a coffee while I was in town. To my surprise, he responded.

And that is when everything changed.

Old School: How It All Began

Before all the sex, drugs and rock and roll. Before I understood that love wasn’t real. I had a boyfriend. A stereotypical high school nightmare, him the Football Guy and me the Cheer Captain. The first 8 months of our 2 years were grand while the remaining was spent figuring how to get out alive.

He was the first person I slept with, first guy to make me cum. I loved sex from day one.  The tales of our relationship would not only bore you, but also frighten you to your core; instead I am skipping along to the juicy goodness. The breakup.

I had finally been given my out; Football Guy had hung up on me for the very last time. The next morning he approached me in the hallway. Tried to kiss me and I turned my cheek. “Why did you hang up on me?” I demanded. His response, “I didn’t feel like talking to you anymore.”

The entire day he kept approaching me for a kiss, my response, “I didn’t FEEL like it.” Heading to my last class of the morning he cornered me, told me if I walked away from him it was over. I turned on the heel of my espadrilles and walked into class, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Like clockwork Football Guy was standing outside my class when the bell rang. I walked by him. He grabbed my wrist, demanding we speak. I told him I had lunch plans that perhaps I would FEEL like talking to him after.

Heading into my first class post lunch drink in hand, he was waiting outside the giant glass wall of the science lab. He demanded to know what was going on. I told him I thought it was over; after all I had walked away. He laughed, “I was just threatening you.” He stared at me and I looked him square in the eye, for the first time feeling confident towards him. He asked if I still loved him. Silence. I took a long sip of my diet coke before answering, “No.” 

He grabbed the drink from my hand, threw it in my face before punching the wall beside my head. I could feel the breeze on my cheek as his fist crunched into the drywall. I just kept staring him in the eye. He pushed me, for the last time, into the wall and then stormed around the corner and up the stairs.

I stood, my white sundress dripping in soda. I could see the kids in the science room on their phones, texts to everyone what they had witnessed. I had never felt better. I was free; let the games begin.