Gather round, children. It’s time for me to impart some of the wonderful advice my father has given me and years of experience (I know I say this as a 19 year old with like, 5 years of experience, but it’s experience nonetheless!) has reinforced.
Do not go back to someone you are no longer in a relationship with. They are your ex for a reason.
This is a particularly difficult lesson to learn, as sometimes the good memories with the person you once dated cloud the really, really bad ones and you convince yourself that you know what all of your problems are now and you can change the situation by having the advantage of knowing what pitfalls to avoid.
Of course that is bull shit, but it sounds nice at the time. And so you return to the person who scorned you, or sometimes who you scorned, and you get your hopes up that things will be just like they were before, only better.
Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. Things will be WORSE. You’ve both moved past the fun, giggly, getting-to-know-each-other phase of your relationship, you know exactly which buttons to push to piss the other person off, and you remember the bitter breakup from before. You fight MORE than you did the first go around. The happy times spent together occur with less frequency than the shitty times when you just sit in silence or yell at each other, rehashing the same fights over and over until the relationship comes to its unfortunate end, leaving both of you angrier and more hurt than the first time.
That’s one thing that can happen.
Another potential outcome of even speaking to someone you once dated is the far less preferred event in which this happens: you befriend your ex. Things “get back to normal,” or as normal as they could possibly be seeing as you’ve seen each other naked and you know all their weird little secrets, and you hang out and you get coffee and dinner and do all the things that “friends” do. Until one day you’re texting your “friend” and they get a little “friendly” and the next thing you know they’re coming to your dorm at 12:30 under the pretense of hanging out and they start kissing you and all you can think is how long you’ve waited for this moment since the breakup. That you didn’t really want to break up. That it wasn’t really that bad before and that things would work out this time.
Then they tell you they don’t actually want to date you. The information later comes out that they came over knowing full well they didn’t want to date you but they chose to kiss you anyways, knowing that you very much so wanted to date them. And they tell you they didn’t think of the consequences of their actions or how that would make YOU feel, just that they wanted to kiss someone and you were there.
And you shatter a little.
Because not only have you just gotten your hopes up only to have them promptly knocked back down, but you’ve done this twice in the same year and the first time was so devastating you didn’t know how you could do it again. And now you have to do it again.
The day before your birthday, no less.
And they get to walk away knowing they have that power over you and that you’re going to sit at home like a sad little puppy, alone and watching The Office for the four thousandth time.
But that’s where they’re wrong.
You aren’t going to be sad and lonely and do all the stupid things you did the first time you broke up, like get 3 new piercings or lay out in a field next to a lake in Oklahoma in August, causing you to get so many mosquito bites you have to get a steroid shot in your ass and when the urgent care physician sees your weird rash she audibly gasps and says “Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” (not that that ever happened to me…) This time you know what to do. You cry for a little bit, then pull yourself up, get some coffee, put on some red lipstick, and you live.
You live your life to the fullest and you don’t let that person get the better of you because honestly who are they to make you feel inferior. They clearly weren’t in their right mind, because they let you slip through their fingers twice and it isn’t going to happen again. You are done with them. (side note, you can also drink half a bottle of champagne and essentially text them to fuck off, which is what I did. But I was wearing red lipstick at the time)
You can avoid all of this whole “learning life lessons on your own” bullshit and just heed my advice.
Do not, for the love of God, date your exes again.
All my exes may not live in Texas, but I can promise you all of them now permanently live in the past, and it feels pretty damn good.