Can your ex be your clande?

I used to think that chics who messed around with their exes had issues. That was up until I woke up in my ex’s bed this morning and wished I could slap myself across the face real hard. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about. These instances usually occur at a time when you’re in the dark depths of maneuvering the single life. You don’t have any serious prospects, no one is really blowing up your phone anymore. You’re bored, sad, and home alone on a Saturday night. Your thoughts begin to wander into forbidden territories as you sit reminiscing of better days.


That was me last night. I was slumped over on the couch nibbling on stale carrot sticks wondering why I had really made that decision to be ‘single for a while’. It certainly didn’t feel as liberating as I thought it would in that moment. To make matters worse I was sitting there watching MTV where someone thought it would be funny to play a cruel joke on me and play all of my break-up songs back to back. First up was Maxwell’s ‘Pretty Wings’; a song that makes me cry while I’m smiling. Then they played Rihanna’s ‘Russian Roulette’ and I returned to that dark place of unanswered questions and unrequited love. And finally to top it all off, Chris Brown’s ‘Crawl’ came on and I simply lost it. I could’ve sworn someone was messing with me.

As I sat there staring at the screen wondering if I would ever crawl back to love again, my phone rang. It was a number I had deleted off my phone but I knew it all too well. My ex was calling. He asked whether I wanted to meet up for a drink and somehow in-between my heart pounding a mile-a-minute I agreed to go see him. At that point I didn’t know what to think. I was excited, confused, anxious, and curious; all at the same time. Why would he call me out of the blue when we hadn’t spoken in weeks? Was he just scrolling through his phone and all his other ‘chips’ were busy tonight so he decided to call me out of desperation? Whatever the case, I didn’t really care. I needed to get off that couch.

After spending way too much time trying on outfits I settled on one and headed out to meet my ex at a club. Not much had changed…he was as handsome as ever. I tried to fight off his attempts to hold my hand until I had finished my first drink. By the time I was on my second cocktail all inhibitions went out the window. It was the full teenage make-out in public thing and I was loving it. The conversation was limited to things like ‘Oh, I’ve missed you so much’, ‘I cant seem to get you out of my system’ and other such nonsense.

A few drinks later we were in the car headed back to his place. Things were getting heated and moving very fast. It was like a scene out of one of those movies where clothes are being ripped off and your hair is flying around ever so sexily. It was at this point that I believe the cocktails had gotten the best of me and I proceeded to make an irreparable mistake. Somewhere in the heat of the moment I blurted out that I love him. Those three words brought things to a screeching halt and he whispered out a surprised ‘what?’. Talk about sobering up instantly! “Did I really just say that?”, I mumbled while trying to laugh it off. Somehow that moment managed to pass and we went on to have mediocre sex.


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