The Ex Boyfriend

I had this conversation with The Ex Boyfriend a few weeks ago.  Maybe it was a few months ago.  It all runs together now.

Either way it was strange because we had this whole conversation about how we feel about one another which was basically that we find one another hugely attractive and wish we were sleeping together on a regular basis but we also feel like we chose the right life partners (not each other) and so we’d better not fuck everything up by actually acting on our feelings.  We shared our mutual admiration and dare I say even “love” and then we talked about how we felt like we had this awesome insane connection and we were probably soul mates.  I even had this weirdo flash-back to what I would consider maybe a past life if I didn’t know I had a terribly active imagination where we were both old sitting on a park bench feeding some ducks with bags full of bread and I was wearing one of those plastic head scarves so your hair doesn’t get wet when it’s raining that my grandma used to wear before she kicked it. 

Then on Sunday I felt all bad about the whole thing because the pastor talked about lust and how you’ve already committed adultery and blah blah blah and I felt so guilty I wrote his name down on this piece of paper and pinned it to the wooden cross at the front of the church in my woe and agony for the blackness of my soul.

I don’t think talking to him all the time is good for my marriage.

But I’m also married to a guy who said that if I ever wanted to act on my feelings for another chick he might be cool with it.  So maybe he would be cooler with this whole thing than I could possibly imagine.  I don’t know.  I’ve been playing it all out in my mind for months now.  About how we would meet up and have one night of mind-blowing sex and then seriously never do it again.  I don’t think I would even want to.  One night, just get it done.  That would be enough for me.  But it would be a hot night…  Yes. it. would.

 

Oh… and why are we exes?  Why didn’t we just get married and shit?

Two reasons.

 

1.  He was massively depressed (clinically) at the time and needed to be medicated.  He got medicated, but not until after we broke up in a fiery fit of passion.

2.  I was in the dregs of purist philosophy and felt like it would be wrong to sleep with him.  This made me madly conflicted with myself constantly.  I wanted more than you can possibly imagine to have sex with this man, but I didn’t, because I felt it would make me “dirty” and “impure”.  I’d slept with the boy before him and WANTED to but then always felt so fucking guilty about it and scared of being pregnant and all this other shit.  I wish someone would have just bought me a box of condoms and said “Look, sex is sex.  Everybody likes sex.  Well… most everybody.  It doesn’t make you dirty or used or anything else if you want to sleep with someone.  Just be careful and use protection so you don’t have to freak out every time.”  But no.  It was “We will disown you if you get pregnant” and “if you have sex no one else will ever want you and you are cheating on your future husband and you are a used dirty rag and Jesus will be angry because you are basically committing adultery and adultery is the only reason you can get divorced and a really huge fucking deal to the entire Christian community.”  So I didn’t have sex with him even though I really fucking wanted to and so now I’m here married and pretty happily at that with this one stupid regret that I wouldn’t even have if I hadn’t been thrust into Puritanical philosophy over and over again until my head was so full I was drowning.

 

And really – I think we would’ve never really made it married.  Our relationship is SO passionate that we fought a lot and I think we still would.  Lots of emotions.  He thinks from a past life where we were very much entangled and possibly married.  I don’t know – we’re just both really volatile people – which makes for great sex and fiery arguments.

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