Just as I was finishing my recollection of this ex-boyfriend from hell. My home phone rang, area code 860. Who could this be? I don’t usually answer my residential line, as it’s dedicated to darn telemarketers and my online addiction. Then I remember a friend with that same number, I was thinking it was Sandy who’s an old friend from college. So I picked up the phone. Bad idea!
It was Scott, another ex-boyfriend. What is going on here? Is this week end about “ex’es” and reliving old wounds? I haven’t had a descent conversation with Scott since June. All I know was that he move to Connecticut to follow his heart. Ouch! Yes, you heard it. His heart wasn’t mine to begin with. Geee! I wonder what now? It’s been months of no news. Plus, I didn’t make it my business knowing what happens after about my ex-boyfriends. I consider that a recipe right there, for hopeless romantics. Though I remember him leaving this letter on my doorstep, that I ended throwing in the shredder machine after reading. I found no need keeping it in my pile of photographs and memories. Hahaha!
Yes, Scott. What do you need? I said.
Nothing, just wanted to see how you’re doing? He said.
I answered the phone, right? So I must be alive. I’m too old for this, Scott. Please spare me the BS! Don’t tell you’re calling me just to know how I am, you can get that info from our friends. There’s really no need calling me and wasting time! Please, please, don’t ruin my week end. I said in reply.
Seriously! Please calm down? God, you’re always in attack mode! He said.
In fairness to him, he’s really trying hard to have a conversation. I guess, it’s my emotional defenses kicking into gear. To protect me from falling and getting myself into any trouble. I’d be lying to myself if I say that I’m over him, cause I’m not. He’s been my significant other for seven years, it’s not easy to just turn my back and pretend I’m fine. I can’t just put on a happy face. It’s not me! Easier said than done.
But throughout these past couple months as I kept my silence about my personal life. I’ve learned a valuable lesson: Holding anger is a poison. I’ve hated Scott for leaving me and anger ate me from the inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred have a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves. (I’m quoting this from Mitch Albom’s book, The Five People You Meet in Heaven)
Now that he called, I’m wondering why he’s decided to open our line of communication? Why now? What’s his intention? Is this a trick? Am I falling for another one of his traps? Wholly macaroni, what did I get myself into?