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I forgot!

I forgot to inform the anonymous world of my ex visiting. I'm such a bad internet journal-er....

So, we'll call him "The Little Red-Headed Boy". Well, the Little Red-Headed Boy dropped by Sunday evening. Well, I was in track pants and a T-shirt. Nope, not even a bra, I am afraid.

Just as a side ramble, no matter how much you like/dislike/hate/don't care about your ex, you always want to look good when they see you. I don't know if that is so they realise what they are missing, to try to get them back, or to look like you are better off without them..... at any rate, it wasn't one of my finest moments.

So, continuing on, he rolled back into my life (literally, he was wearing roller blades). We sat down and talked.

Quick history lesson: We met at work last year. He asked me out. I said yes. He's almost 2 years younger than me, and very inexperienced in relationships. He went home to farm during the weekends, and I worked 2 full-time jobs. The relationship was dead after the first month or so (heck, we didn't even kiss until 3 weeks in). I went to a wedding, fooled around with someone else, and broke up with the Little Red-Headed Boy the next day, which happened to be our 2 month anniversary, if you wanted to paint me as a more retched creature.

Moving forward, we still got together about once a month to talk or watch movies. He was the most disgruntled, sarcastic, suicidal, homicidal farmer boy I ever met. Plus, he ticked off my good friend, which has some comic value (hereby named "Blondie").

So, he dropped by. Apparently, I wasn't returning his calls. A co-worker told me of this, and I replied that I never got them. Well, this meddling co-worker must have told the Little Red-Headed Boy this, because he dropped by.

So, the scene is set like this: a grubby and bra-less yours-truly, an ex that has lost weight, is more confident in himself, and got a haircut, and conversation that was possibly leading to a reconciliation.

First, he apologized for being a crappy boyfriend. I said it wasn't his fault, after all, I was tired all the time. (That's right ladies and gents, I never told him of my moment of drunken indiscretion)Then we talked and things started to get "that feeling".

You know "that feeling". He looks at you a little too long, and makes jokes, and so on.

So, what does this relationship-phob do? Run outside to check my hanging laundry. In my confusion, I grabbed my room-mate's pants, and pretended to be totally absorbed into them until the conversation came to a close.

Bleah. Crisis adverted.