As much as I am happy being a single girl, walking around this world as one isn’t always easy. You see no matter how much you try to shut them out of your mind, there are always going to be several of your exes that unfortunately are inhabiting valuable space in the same city, country and/or continent as you. They are always going to wake up in their beds and go about their days, breathing the same air as you, visiting the same Starbucks, using the same public toilets, drinking at the same pubs and walking the same streets, very selfishly not considering that they are making it very hard for you not to bump into them.
The worst thing is that it never seems to be on one of those rare days that your make up seemed to go perfectly and you’re wearing a new dress. A day where you casually turn the corner to see your ex, that just so happens to have had a really bad haircut and a stain on his jeans, because if that happened you could be all “Oh Hi, It’s been ages! How lovely to bump into you! I would love to stay and chat, but I have to be somewhere. You look... good. I’m really pleased”. Then you would be able to casually stroll away attracting all the men in a 10 metre radius to very obviously check you out, just so that he knew exactly what he had let go. But, no, that NEVER happens. And for this reason I advise you never to get together, and break up with someone who works at the gym where you are a member. There is simply no way you can look attractive doing the downward dog (pilates pose), getting your bag tangled in the turnstiles or slipping on the pool steps and banging your head on the side.
Aside from the many occasions I have unfortunately come face to face with Lifeguard boy, the last time I ran into an ex, I literally ran into him. It sounds tragic, and believe me it was. It was one of those occasions where it would have felt more comfortable to have my appendix burst again than it was trying to get actual human words out of my mouth.
I am not an attractive runner. Those women that look really athletic and cool in their skintight leggings? Yeah well, I’m not one of them. I have started avoiding mirrors when I get home from running, because I found that seeing what looks like a orange haired Troll Doll (because my hair sticks right up and I look really surprised/concerned), was putting me off running in public. For this reason my routes consist of mainly cut-throughs and large fields that only get the occasional dog walkers. The only problem is when you see someone you know it makes it very hard to make out you haven’t seen them in your sweaty mess. One day, I saw Saliva Boy as I was running and at that moment I realised there was no way I was getting out of that metre wide alleyway with my ego intact. I only had one hope, and that was that maybe someone had accidentally left the gate unlocked to the field that I could get to before I had to pass him. So I sped up, and tried the gate that is slightly hidden behind the bushes. Come on, this is my life, of course it wasn’t open. But as I stepped back out onto the path, knowing that I was going to have to face my ex, I ran smack bang into him. Not just a little bump, but a full throttle, sweaty smack.
I can’t exactly remember what I said, but I doubt anyone human would have been able to understand the noises that mostly came out of my nose. And after I realised I had been staring at his ear for longer than it is socially acceptable, I ran/hobbled off. I think the force of banging into him damaged some important ligaments. That’s a good enough excuse for never running in public again isn’t it?
Saliva Boy hasn’t been able to look at me without laughing since that terrible day.
I suppose the one good thing about deciding to be ‘friends’ with Australia Boy is that for a whole six months it’s going to be incredibly easy to not bump into him. However, I had overlooked the fact that when he comes back home he will be all cultured and what not, along with an incredible tan. Something which would never happen to me, as all I seem to eat abroad are chips and well... I’m ginger.
Hopefully, by also moving away it will mean not having to bump into any of my exes, but I know they will still find a way of making me think 'What did I ever see in him?'. At least with Actor Boy moving to London it makes it less likely that I will have to suffer those “You look well” texts after he has seen me in Boots, wearing joggers and buying tampons.
As this will be the last blog I will write in my bedroom at home, don’t be alarmed if in my next post I call a ‘Cob’ a ‘Bap’ and become all serious and proper journalist-y. Then again, the other day I couldn’t even spell ‘journalist’. This is going to be a hard three years.
Live. Laugh. Love