I hate clichés just as much as any self-respecting person. However, there is a sliver of truth to any cliché, so it should come as no surprise that while I really do try my hardest to not give into stereotypes, there are certain situations where I simply cannot do that. Case in point: my ex-girlfriend.
Julie, for all intents and purposes, is great. She’s got an ass that doesn’t quit. She’s young, has a seemingly endless amount of energy, and in general just makes me feel nice. I should be head over heels for this girl. But I’m not. No matter how hard I try, no matter who else I’m currently seeing, my ex is always in the back of my head. I’ll put her ahead of anyone else on a current roster for no other reason than that she lives a few blocks away from me. It’s frustration. It’s lust. It’s uncertainty. As the immortal Bob Marley once said, is this love?
I awoke promptly at 10:00 a.m. from a measly six hours of sleep with sand (?) in my hair and no clothes on. While many would assume because I woke up naked I was incredibly drunk, I actually kept it together quite well on Saturday. I just enjoy sleeping naked – drunk or sober. But that is neither here nor there. I have a very specific routine on Sunday mornings. I like to wake up no later than 9:00, at which point I’ll brew a pot of Folger’s, wash my bed sheets, and if my degenerate friends aren’t up for brunch by 11, I’ll make my own breakfast and eat it in the living room. This was not a routine Sunday morning, though. This was my last weekend in Chicago, so Thursday, Friday, and Saturday consisted of little more than drinking vast amounts of alcohol. Thursday was my birthday, and although I don’t like to make a big deal out of birthdays, me and a few close friends got after it pretty hard.
I was found at a hot dog stand about a mile from my apartment at 3:00 a.m. scarfing down a chili cheese dog and chasing it with cheese fries. I’m an abhorrent human being, but Julie, my new friend from Bumble was nice enough to walk me home. I don’t remember a whole lot other than waking up with her Friday morning and getting breakfast. I spent the rest of the afternoon packing clothing into suitcases and boxes for my move to Texas, and I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t enjoy a few Miller Lites while I did it. Friday and Saturday nights were more of the same. I’ve been on a very big tequila kick as of late and for the first time in a long time, I’m able to take shots of this particular liquid with little to no issue. I don’t necessarily think that’s a good thing, but it’s nice to not be gagging for once with a shot of liquor.
So Sunday morning rolled around, and Julie was again sleeping soundly next to me. I rolled over and checked my phone to run through my usual Snapchat, Instagram, twitter, and then Facebook if I’m really bored. There was a text waiting for me from her, though.
Ex: Hey what’s your plan for today?
Read: 10:05 AM
Me (lying): I’m just leaving the grocery store. I don’t really have plans yet
Ex: Well do you know what you’re wearing for the wedding? I need to get a dress still…
Read: 10:09 AM
Me: I guess I could use a new tie.
Ex: Okay, I’m working out really quick. You can meet me at my place at noon if that works.
Read: 10:20 AM
With plans for the day already in motion, I needed to wake Julie up. I’ve noticed that she has a tendency to sleep in (probably because she’s 21) but at this point, I was ready for her to leave. Yes, you’ve read that correctly. I kicked Julie out so I could see a girl who had at one time ripped my still-beating heart out of my chest and ate it in front of me. I quickly came up with a lie about how I needed to go to the dry cleaners and pick up some allergy medication minutes later. Julie was out the door by 11:00 a.m., which gave me just enough time to shower before I was out the door and getting on the train to my ex’s apartment.
We hit three stores totaling 45 minutes. By 1:30 p.m. we were back in her air conditioned apartment alternating between bedroom, kitchen counter, and couch. In that moment, I could have stayed there forever. And try as I might to understand the decisions I’ve made up to this point, it is quite hard for me. I left her place Sunday night with a strange sense of confidence. None of this matters anymore, I thought to myself. In one weeks time I won’t be in Chicago and this will all be in the rearview, right?
11:14 PM Monday Night
Ex: So when can I come visit you in Austin?