I was standing at the bar in HQ, bit of banter with the barman who knows my order. Then I turn, drink in hand and practically fall into and over the EX. Not the ‘big ex’, just the last ‘ex’. I clocked his smile and I smiled back while trying to ensure the glass stayed in my hand and remember if I still had any lipstick on. ‘How are you?’, I beamed. ‘How are YOU?’ asked him with the smile back. ‘I’m great [you’re only ever ‘great’ when an ex asks] Howareyou? [smile, I asked again]. So how is work I mean?’. After a brief exchange and with perhaps too much of a ‘breezy’ air à la Monica in ‘Friends’, I waltzed away wondering if he actually had more to say when we were going out.
Hours and several bourbons later, my mouth as dry as biscuit tin with nothing but a packet of Rich Tea for company, I tried to blink it away! Out! Out NOW! The vision before me was a shagalicious 70’s type bedroom with me and the ex getting hot and heavy to Number 47 of the Karma Sutra! OhMyGodandnowI’vejustwokenup. Well, I think I’ve woken up.. It’s dark. There’s no noise. Reaching where I don’t really want to reach, I conclude that it’s just me in my little bed. The light confirms it before I can exhale.
Bloody Nora! Eh, hello Subconscious – WHY did YOU want to have sex with the ex tonight? I certainly didn’t! I’M OVER HIM, REMEMBER? And for the record, it was me that wanted out of that particular dalliance, but that didn’t stop me being annoyed and surprised at him reverting back to being a 5-year old when we broke up.
Then I couldn’t get back to sleep. Tch! Why did you try to pull that one, Subconsious? I soo don’t want to get back with him! It was months ago. I waited until daylight before hitting Google – well, I don’t want to appear a complete loon, even to myself. And I found it somewhere that dreaming about sex with an ex means that you ARE actually over him. That’s good enough for me. NEXT!