Friday night; date night. I was resolved to lying on my couch all night long, taking a couple Tylenol PM around midnight and sleeping hard until work Saturday morning. It's not that I don't want to go out, Lord knows if I had an endless supply of money I would be out every night, everywhere. But I can't afford to leave my house, and fortunately I am really beginning to appreciate my own company. So, a Friday night in, which used to seem like the most depressing thing ever, is now actually borderline enjoyable. I made myself an early dinner, turned on Courtney and Kim take New York (or whichever Kardashian marathon was currently playing on E!) and shut off my brain. Until my sister called.
Now, I love my friends to death. But I don't think there is a single one of them that could have gotten me off the couch this Friday night. But when your little sister calls and is in need of some sister time, there is no refusing. I got in the shower (which was against the spirit of my lazy Friday, but retrospectively the best decision I made all night) and we headed to Oswego's finest Kendall 10 Movie Theater to catch Ryan Gosling looking all sexy in "Crazy Stupid Love". I was having a great time, I was actually happy I dragged myself into daylight for a few hours and to go see a movie I was anxiously awaiting the release of.
My sister and I were giggling about previews and movie theater candy when her jaw dropped, and her face turned white. I was so confused by her reaction that it took me a minute to even turn my head in the general direction of whatever was causing her that much shock and surprise. I scanned everything from my sisters face, across the face of a redheaded girl that looked vaguely familiar, and then directly onto the face of the ex. THE EX. The BIG one. The 'stole my heart at 19 and then dragged me through the most dramatic, unstable, intense, passionate relationship of my entire life for 2 years' one. It was ANDY. Motherfucking Andy.
Now, the last time I had physically seen my ex was almost 3 years ago. I was living in the Plainfield house. We had gotten back together for the 100th time, and I started cheating on him with a server from Biaggi's. The relationship ended, technically, when he realized what was going on and finally walked away. But I claim to this day that the last time we started dated was a mistake, and I knew we were toxic together and shouldn't have continued trying to fix that which was beyond repair, or I would never have cheated in the first place. Maybe that's just a cheater's mentality, but I believed if we were good, and if I were happy it would have never gotten to that point.
3 years ago, we said goodbye finally and by a mysterious act of God have not once run into each other. I've never seen him walking out of a Target (Jerod), or dealing blackjack at a casino (Dan), or ran into him at a family party (Erik). We have successfully not been in the same room as one another in 3 whole years. We have talked a few times here and there. A couple late night conversations after one too many glasses of wine, which always ended up with us talking about how great our sex life was and making plans that neither of us would ever keep, to get together and see if that spark was there one last time. In fact, the last phone call from him was while I was dating Charlie back in February. He called me from a gas station at 5am because he was drunk and stranded.
Now seeing him with the girlfriend was heart wrenching, no matter how nonchalant I try to be. It was Andy. My Andy. He sat down directly one row ahead of us, directly in front of us, and the next 2 hours was like watching an emotionally draining episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000. But instead of quippy commentary between man and robot, it was silhouettes of hand holding and making-out. I nervously giggled through most of the film, and bolted for the door before the first credit reached the top of the screen. Not exactly what I imagined my first run in with Andy to be. I do take solace in knowing between me and my sister's very distinctive laughs, he must have been equally as distracted by my presence as I was his.
I wish I could say that this run-in was easily brushed off my shoulders, but it definitely put a damper on the rest of my weekend. Not because I want to be Andy's girlfriend again, far from it. In fact that cattiest thing that came out of my mouth, audibly, through the whole movie was that I hope she was enjoying my sloppy seconds. I wouldn't ever date Andy again. He's as lazy and unmotivated in life as he was when we broke up so many years ago. But in the midst of dealing with the Charlie breakup (one that my therapist and I revealed was a lot bigger than I could have anticipated it to be) it was just another reminder of someone else I could make a romantic relationship hold with. Which is discouraging and depressing for anyone, especially for someone who resumed their position on their couch Saturday night after work and has remained there until now when I got up long enough to blog.
With this being said, I'm feeling better now. I am trying not to make a mountain out of this molehill, it was bound to happen. And if anything it's a dry run of the awkwardness that will ensue the next time I run into an ex with their next girlfriend. I just hope the next time that that happens I am either on the arm of Patrick Dempsey or 15 pounds lighter. Neither of which will be easily accomplished from my couch. But then again, neither will another exboyfriend run in. One more tally in the argument for staying on the couch column.
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