Ex Contact

So there I was, having a glass of wine and doing the usual Friday wind-down at the Fringe, when in walks an ex-boyfriend.

He wasn’t that important, in the scheme of things.  He didn’t cause me great tragedy.  I never learned any big lessons from him. He was just…there.

On paper he looked great: Middle class, going to college, part-time job at White Spot,  had his own car, that kind of thing. A nice, normal boy a far cry from the drama of my druggie ex or the past-life regressionist ex.

Except that he was boring. He made the same Red Dwarf jokes over and over.  His eyes were too close together and he thought going to movies was a waste of money.  The clincher was when I was refurbishing a jacket for a costume course and he pronounced the course, the jacket and the materials to be a waste of time and money.

See ya, buddy. Creativity is never a waste of time or money.

And then last night, he’s in my space? Well, it turns out he and his girlfriend live a few blocks from me.  He does something involving drafting, mostly from home.

Other than that, it looks like little has changed. He still folds his legs like a stork that has to pee, and waves his hands when he’s talking like he wants to karate-chop but is too feeble.  Still talks over people.  I wish him well, but hope not to have many more conversations with him.

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