Wtf?

It’s 3 am practically.  Third night in a row where I am wide awake.

Second night in a row that I am wide awake for the same reason, full of thoughts racing through my mind.  However, this isn’t like most nights when my thoughts are like a compilation of current problems, future worries, what I had to eat, “I need to clean my room,” or “maybe I should straighten my hair tomorrow.” THAT is a snippet of the 30 second montage that occurs every waking moment of my existence.  However, this night I’m up feeling “off” and maybe nostalgic, possibly mildly dissociated.

For the first time in almost 10 years, I heard from my ex.

And not the average crap men spit out every few months or years to see if they can still have the chance to sleep with you: “hey there, hope you’re doing fine.”  This was my real ex – the man who was almost my first everything. The same guy who refused pick up my break up call to him, leading to me sending a breakup text that he responded immediately to with something along the lines of “I agree.”  THAT was the last exchange we’ve had and I never heard back from…til last night. The same guy, may I add, that rekindled with his old flame two months – yes two months – after we broke up and dated her, proposed to her, and likely did all the cliches within these 10 years.  The man who never reached out to say, “hope you’re doing okay btw.” The man whose car’s engine I would hear around my small town picking up his new gf and her best friend who lived upstairs from me.  The man who honestly, now that I’m old enough to understand, took advantage of my innocence and took away some of my innocence as well.  It was just a 4 and 1/2 year difference…but that matters when you’re just 16 and dying to be loved.

I don’t like to think of things like that, but I now have a newfound disgust that arises when I think of him and our backseat expeditions that, at the time, meant so much to me while being just a conquest for him. Complete disgust arises when thinking of one particular night where he knew he had maybe gone too far, but brushed it off.  I want to clarify, I don’t mean anything forceful nor sex.  But a not-so-fond memory that is playing in my head right now, making my body tense up and making me feel gross.  Not ashamed, but gross that I let this guy use me for so long in my youth.

Sorry, this is not where I thought this post was going, but I wanted to just write out and go with the flow.

He added me on IG two days ago and sent a “hey” dm.  LOL. Ten years and a “hey”? The nerve. The audacity. Truly! But, he’s always been a coward – some things never change.  After some resistance on his end, he apologized.  It seemed genuine, but you know – 10 years too late.

And now here I am, reflecting, feeling weird af.

I’ve only recently (like 2 months ago) started processing what this man’s role was in my life and whether he left a lasting impact. So of course the universe in the year 2020 (the year of total global insanity at this point) would throw me a complete curveball as I was gently trying to figure out if there were pieces of shattered glass he left behind in my life to pick up.

What does this mean for me? Did I even need this closure anymore? Does this mean other guys will come back in 10 years, too? Wtf is going on here?

I’m more flustered by the unrest this has caused in just 48 hours – literally and metaphorically. I feel like my head is suddenly even more clouded and I can’t process this right now.  Like I don’t fucking have time to now think about a character from chapter 2 of my 100 chapter story.  I’m feeling also a little mad because it is not something I needed.  I always bring peace into these men’s lives and they come to take mine – even when they try to come back.  I don’t want to hear a peep from them years later. For what? Sometimes it truly is too little too late and the intention of the apology likely continues to come from a self-centered place – “I need to make amends to make myself feel better for being a shitty person to someone” bs.  No, thank you.  There is a short time frame when genuine apologies can be made before we learn to fucking live without them. This is like having a dysfunctional family member come back after you finally have your shit together – a Monica to the Gallaghers if you catch my reference.

My eyebrows are hunched up and I’m pouting like a child thinking and writing about this out of all things during an international pandemic, a novel BLM civil rights uprising, when I haven’t had a normal day at work in 4 months, when aliens were confirmed by NASA, and we are at the brink of some kind of national police reform and crisis.  2020: what the fuck?