YOU be the judge!
I just realized that I forgot to tell you about my very disturbing Saturday. Such an oversight can partially be explained by the stress of my new job (which, as of today, is mostly the stress of doing nothing because I have a relatively tenuous grasp of what my new job is) and partially by the fact that it has been SNOWING, and everyone here is very busy rushing around telling one another about the snow. And of course there is also the exhaustion that follows a revelation from above. Said revelation, in case you were wondering, happened in front of Bloomingdale’s when a woman wearing camouflage leggings under a denim miniskirt burst into flames and spoke to me with the voice of God.
So–Saturday.
The Actually and I have a Saturday morning routine. I let the Actually sleep late while I “write” (i.e. rework the same sentence for twenty minutes and then eat a piece of cheese), and when he wakes up at 10:30 we race out of the house to have breakfast.
Only this time we raced out of the house to see my ex-boyfriend’s car parked at the curb.
A series of facts flashed through my mind:
1. Our downstairs duplex neighbors have mentioned that they are elementary school teachers.
2. One of them is a foreigner from France, who speaks French.
3. Last night they had a party.
4. My ex-boyfriend is a teacher at a French immersion elementary school.
These facts quickly arranged themselves into a series of letters that spelled out OH MY GOD MY EX-BOYFRIEND IS ASLEEP IN MY HOUSE.
Now technically, this gentleman—we’ll call him Pierre-Marie—was never my boyfriend. We were close friends with mutually confessed feelings for one another, but Pierre-Marie didn’t want a “serious relationship” and insisted that if we started dating it could be nothing but serious, because I was just that irresistible (and apparently just that gullible). The result was a tense, ambiguous, double-entendre-laden year, punctuated with drunken near misses. Things eventually spiraled into drama and tears and him sleeping with some girl he swore he had no real interest in, which catapulted me into an affair with a man I hated. During this time I wrote many, many embarrassing email messages to Pierre-Marie, embarrassing email messages that haunt me with their horribleness.
And there, Saturday morning, was his car, a car I recognized because I had learned to drive a stick shift in it. For all I knew Pierre-Marie could be watching me through the front window that very instant.
And I was wearing no makeup. No makeup and too-small jeans that looked like sausage casings. My hair was unwashed and held up with a scuffed plastic clip. I still had pillow creases on the side of my face.
The solution seemed clear—drop to the ground and roll into the nearest clump of bushes, where I could root around for a few berries to pound into a paste to apply to my lips and cheeks as rudimentary rouge. Mascara would be a problem, but if I was lucky enough to find a spider or two I could pull off the legs and fasten them to my eyelids with sap. It’s what anyone would have done, am I wrong?
But the Actually was with me, so I yanked him down the steps to our car, shielding my face as I drove away. I tried to act nonchalant, but as we took the corner on one wheel, I could see the Actually knew something was amiss. And so I told him about Pierre-Marie’s car, and the NO MAKEUP. And thus began the familiar debate.
The Actually does not understand the imperative to look attractive when running into an ex. His theory is that if you are unwilling to let an ex-lover see you in filthy rags with a piece of spinach in your tooth and a broken heel, you must still have feelings for him. Now, I have tried to explain that every woman I know dreads running into an ex-boyfriend on a day when she is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with ice cream stains on the hem–regardless of how pleased they are to have dodged the bullet of said ex-boyfriend in the first place. The fact is that there are only two appropriate times to see any ex, and those are:
1. You are accepting an Academy Award, and he is begging for change outside the theater.
2. You are accepting a Nobel Prize, and he is begging for change outside the theater.
The issue first came up on vacation a few years ago, when the Actually and I met my family for dinner at a lodge owned by my first boyfriend’s parents. I hadn’t seen this particular ex-paramour since college, and knew he might be there waiting tables.
I spent extra time getting ready, ultimately choosing to wear a somewhat cleavagey sweater. The Actually sulked, and after dinner demanded to know if I was still in love with my ex, which caused me to laugh and laugh and laugh some more, because are you kidding me? The Actually was not kidding me. And he advanced, for the first time, his theory that the need to wear a cleavagey sweater in front of an ex indicates that a torch is being carried.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, as we drove back to the hotel, “I haven’t thought about him in years! We dated ages ago!” The Actually looked unconvinced.
“I’ve been with lots of guys since then!” I assured him.
This did not have the soothing effect I had hoped for.
Anyway, that is all beside the point. The point is that we each remain firmly convinced that our opinion is the correct one—I maintain that it is natural to wish to cause one’s exes pain via a cleavagey sweater, while the Actually maintains that I am just a big whore.
Who is right?
33 Comments
You are so, so right. And on some level the Actually must know it. Would he want to run into an ex while looking all ungood? It’s kind of like how you don’t want to go to your high school reunion unless you’re doing very well for yourself. Why else would you go? Perhaps I’m projecting. Still.
Ok, I cannot believe my good fortune here.
Not only has no one commented (yet) but also, this is the very first time I have been to your site! I know! The coincidence is staggering! As is the fact that this is the first time I’ve been here. Apparently I live under a rock.
All to say, YOU ARE RIGHT. Painfully, undeniably, pragmatically right. I’m just impressed that you could find an outfit you deemed appropriately sex-kittenesque.
But while we’re on this subject, tell me this: Dressed in your very worst, would you rather happen upon an ex-boyfriend or your high-school Girl Nemesis? You know, the girl who always looked better than everyone else, the girl who stole your boyfriend (well, maybe he wasn’t your boyfriend, but you were certainly working on it), the girl who looked down her tiny, snooty nose at you for writing haikus whilst she made her way to cheerleading practice. Did you know one of those girls?
Ah. Coincidence, apparently, it was not. But at least I am the second commenter. If only this was my second visit, karma could be intact once again.
Naturally you are right. On a trip home to PA I went to a bar with the husband and our good friends - a couple, the female half of which I went to high school with. At the bar, my friend pointed out the presence of my first boyfriend and I froze. I looked fat, wasn’t dressed particularly well, and wasn’t wearing any makeup. I spent the rest of the evening hiding behind The Dude. I certainly didn’t have feelings for him, but I didn’t want him to see me looking like shit either. This is why I put on good clothes and makeup before stepping out of the house when I visit home now.
I’ve just consulted The Dude about this matter, and he says he is completely on your side. In his words, “I would want to prove that this bitch is mine now. It is locked down buddy.” In fact, he would like me to look particularly good so the ex could lust after something he “has”. Yeah, he’s a feminist really.
Regarding what Elise said, I think I’d choose to look better for the Girl Nemesis. I have one and I still hate her after all these years for being the high school girlfriend of the guy I coveted throughout junior high and high school. She knew how I felt and took every opportunity to remind me that she was with him and I never would be. Bitch.
She’s married to a fabulous looking, young professor at an Ivy League school now. Initially I was jealous, but then I heard from multiple sources that he is insanely boring and that made up for everything and then some.
Could you both be right and you’re a pain causing big whore? Just a thought.
I think men and women are so different that the the ideas of one seems absolutely ridiculous to the other. It’s the case with the men in my life anyway. Somehow I’m always surprised by this too.
You’re absolutely right, but I would like to add another time when it’s appropriate to see an ex: you’re being sworn in as president and he’s begging for change on the side of the motorcade.
In reference to Elise’s question, I would definitely rather look good in front of the high school girl nemesis rather than the ex. Though it’s rather a moot point because thankfully no one from my high school other than myself migrated south. I swear, my high school (including ex-boyfriend and girl nemesis) have all moved to Boston. I hope they enjoy their snow-laden months while I bask in the Atlanta sunlight!
Loved this post. Tell The Actually that you are SO right and he is not- of course you need to look good. I ran into Southern Lawyer’s brother (not even Southern Lawyer, but his brother) at a conference recently and was very glad that I was dressed in a pin striped suit with make-up on. Because you know brother will report back (too bad I still had my braces on, but oh well.)
As for Girl nemesis- I was lucky not to really have one in high school, so I’m sticking with the boyfriend.
And I like the one about being sworn is as president. Maybe some day in our lifetime we’ll see a woman? Maybe?
I agree with you completely!! This is why I spent so much effort on my outfit for a recent wedding because I knew X would be there and I wanted him to suffer (just a little).
He did and really it made all the difference. I feel much better now.
How could The Actually even THINK that he was right? The fool.
Obviously you want to look sexy so that ex-boyfriend will smack his head and wonder at his stupidity for letting you slip out of his grasp. The best revenge is looking good, etc.
And also, one more situation where it’s ok to see your ex-boyfriend:
You’re being presented with a National Book Award and he’s outside the theater, drunk and lying in a pool of his own urine.
We all just want to be madly wanted, even if by said unwanted ex. It matters not that we have no “feelings” for the ex, we just need to know they are near gouging their very eyes out over the loss of us, which is easier to achieve if looking “cleavagey” and ravishing. Very clear to me, all this is. Remind The Actually to relax, and help by looking at you as if he could eat you alive.
I think it’s more important to look good for the girl nemesis - women pay so much more attention to these things! But I still agree that looking fab in front of the ex is a moral victory.
Well obviously you are correct. There’s just something a woman gets out of seeing her ex’s face of “damn why’d I let that one get away” even though you wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot poll.
I, um, don’t have a lot of ex-boyfriends, but when I ran into an old grad school classmate (another woman) a few weeks ago I was bummed that I was not looking my best. I just figure that later they’re going to tell someone they ran into you, and you’d rather them report that you looked good than say, “Man, she really looked like shit!” I imagine the same would go triple for my ex-boyfriend, except I’m a little afraid of him, so mostly I’m just glad he’s in another country.
You are both right. It is just that the Actually is looking at it from the wrong point of view. Because he’s a man. He should be looking at it as props to him for capturing the hottie that Pepe Le French guy let get away.
I would die a thousand deaths if I ran into any of my ex-anythings if I was not looking my finest. And since lately I look like cat poo all the time, I think it is best that I quit my job and stay inside permanently (or at least until I can pull off a Janet Jackson.)
Okay who is T? Of course you’re right and the Actually is wrong. It doesn’t matter if you want the ex anymore or not. You always want to make sure that as soon as they see you they become convinced that letting you get away was the WORST mistake of their life.
As for Elsie’s question…definitely want to look better for the Girl Nemisis. She’ll tell many more people if you look bad. The ex–he’s a guy–they don’t notice the details, and he’ll forget the next day any way.
Love your blog!!
Methinks you should ask the Actually if he would want an ex girlfriend to see him stark naked after taking a very cold shower? :-)) Maybe then he’ll understand why we cringe to not look our best when seeing an ex? Hee hee!
My H has had to get over this as I am friends with many of my exes, whereas he has no idea whether his are still alive or dead. Sadly he’s such the un-jealous type that it doesn’t bother him, actually I would rather like a bit more angst around my exes. Ah well.
OMG. It is a fucking LAW of the universe that no person shall ever EVER be seen by an ex unless they are looking as hot as humanly possible. It is just wrong to do otherwise, wrong wrong wrong. They must pine for you, they must see what they are missing, etc. That is the way it is.
That was a hilarious post. OF COURSE all bets are off when the ex is involved. I sleep with mascara under my pillow so I can slide some on when I wake up with Mr. You’re Ok For Now. I don’t get my mail without makeup and a tight tee.
Of course you want your ex to suffer at seeing your sexy, unattainable self. Who wouldn’t?
Jeff and I had a similar argument when I was looking at dresses in bridal magazines. Any dress that was remotely sexy prompted a response of, “Looks like she’s trolling for husband number two.”
I couldn’t make him understand the other way of looking at it– that the bride dresses to look beautiful for herself, and for the man she’s marrying. “You get to say Sorry, boys! This lovely lady’s coming home with me!”
After the ceremony, we climbed into a limousine that would give us a moment to ourselves before the reception. Jeff looked at me, leaned over, and said, “I get it now.”
Oh. Oh. Oh. How can there be any debate about this?? Anytime you see ANYONE that you parted ways with, for ANY reason, you must look fabulous. And richer than them. And younger than them. That’s just logic. Or maybe it isn’t, but it FEELS like it is.
I hate going to the mall in my hometown. It is positively CRAWLING with people I went to high school with. And as juvenile as it is, if I don’t have nice hair that day, I wander that mall with a look of flinching terror on my face.
You have to win. You have to win the race of life whether you really care about the other person or not. What’s not to get??
I agree, there’s no question you were right.
I visited the town where I went to high school two months ago with my daughter and I dressed not only myself but my kid to the nines the ENTIRE time I was there, just in case I should happen to run into an ex, a past crush, or a frenemy.
I have no interest in anyone but my husband, I just wanted to make the menfolk think, damn, I was a TOTAL IDIOT to let her get away, and I wanted the frenemies to know that I reproduce cuter than they do.
I didn’t run into anyone, but I felt much better knowing that I was prepared.
OMG - you’re right, all the way. I have to now WORK with my EX HUSBAND…so any chance I might have in running into him means I have to be well dressed, laughing, smiling, etc. I also have to have photos of the cute little baby I had with my nice new husband and photos of the GORGEOUS teenager, that the lying-sack-’o-shit also left when he left us for a car rental clerk and part-time YOGA INSTRUCTOR.
I’m over him completely, there’s not an iota of a desire to ever be with this man again - yet I hate looking less than great when I run into him. And some men saying this is a sign that I still harbor “thoughts”. Uh, yeah…thoughts of stapling his nuts to his forehead, lifelong impotence, or ameobic dysentery
Hah! Leah’s comment cracked me up…”Stapling his nuts to his forehead.”
Alexa, of course you are right. Looking like a knockout for an ex does NOT equal carrying a torch for him. It means wanting him to go home and curl up in a little ball, crying about how stupid he was to ever let you go. And after that, it’s about taking pleasure in grinding his face in your happiness. It’s about payback, the very best way possible.
But then again, I may just have issues with exes I hate.
You are totally right. It’s not about feelings or wanting someone back. It’s all about winning, yo.
That post was hilarious, and I concur that you are abso-fucking-lutely correct!
You always want the ex to feel like he’s missing out on something. Namely, the vision of beauty and poise that is YOU!
I ran into an ex at Pier 1 one Saturday, full-on sweats, greasy hair pulled back, bangs askew…my face turned as red as the curtains I was holding. I was also carrying a long bamboo pole thing which seemed like a good idea at the time but the entire look just screamed tired, unwashed and with very bad decorating taste.
It was traumatic. Still not over it, apparently…
I am with you on looking your very best when bumping into ex’s. It’s our way of slapping them in the face, look what you are missing out on buddy! Men just don’t get that I guess?
P.S. congrats on the new job
What? Walking around with stains on your shirt, your teeth, and the piece of underwear that is poking out of your unzipped fly when you run into your asshole high school boyfriend doesn’t communicate nonchalence, a zen disdain for the conventions of fashion, hygiene, and high school romance, not to mention wild riches, book contracts and success? I guess someone better pass me the lipstick.
Delurking to comment:
Who was it that said, “The best revenge is living well”? Of course you must look your absolute best to run into an ex. Because, then, look at you…you’re so beautiful, and you have a handsome Actually, and you’re doing so well…and him? He’s still driving the same old car. Man, he’s an idiot for letting you get away…but you, in your regal elegance just nod his way and continue on to your very important previous engagement. Ta ta.
You absolutely *must* feel superior to your conquests, and exude confidence and success. Because they are worms to be ground beneath your heel. And the Actually, he is the here and now…your success to rub their noses in.
There, tell him that. Then maybe he’ll get it.
Re-lurking.
Oh-mah-gawd. This JUST happened to me in the Osco pharmacy. I looked like day-old poo. It was utterly humiliating.
Now, (and for the next ten years) whenever I leave the house, I have to look fabulous, JUST IN CASE.
You are ABSOLUTELY right.
The point is, using my ex-boyfriend for an example, to rub the rotten bastard’s nose in it because he treated me like crap then dumper me because he thought he could do better. HA!
Even though he can never have me again I need him to feel the pain of knowing how badly he blew it.
Unfortunately, I never manage to look good when I run into him, so I don’t think he’s feeling the pain yet.
Of course you are right! Men don’t care what they look like in front of anyone therefore they cannot understand our need to be strikingly beautiful in the presence of an ex. There is no torch to be extinguised, just the need to make the ex horribly unhappy at the prospects of what might have been…