All of the social networking tools we have today are great. We find friends we didn't bother to stay in touch with after high school, research people we're interested in (ie socially acceptable stalking), and often find out information we would have been better off not knowing.
Through the feed of such a networking tool, I found out that an ex was getting married exactly 1 year to the weekend of our last face to face visit. I saw it, I crinkled my nose at it, and moved on.
Then one busy Saturday I came home, threw the mail on my bed, and ran out to catch an evening performance. I end up sitting directly behind a former prospect, who was on a date. He saw me and quickly turned around. After the performance, I could feel him turning to talk. Really?!??! I quickly got up and moved out of the row.
Heading home, late, I saw the pile of mail
between me and a good night's sleep - or so I thought. In the mix of lease renewals, flyers, and bills was an enveloped with my address scrawled across the front.
It had been mailed four days before. I opened it up expecting it to be one of several former roommates' wedding invitations. A wedding invitation it was. To the ex's wedding, that day. What!?!? That's right. He mailed it 4 days before the wedding. His wife had forbidden Him contacting me 3 months before. I obeyed - he's since texted, emailed - all of which I've ignored. Who does that? Who thinks "I better send my ex my wedding invitation as I'm on my way out of town to my wedding"?
The color of the insert: Teal - the color of gangrene. Was I holding his cold feet?
I threw it across the room.
In the morning, still incredulous, I called my mother - my wise confidant - whose only reaction was "what is it with you? Nick still calls you on Christmas when he's at the airport with his wife. Jack tries to meet up with you when his girlfriend is out of town. Fred calls you right before he proposes. - and what about those other ones that made you their first call after they got engaged?".
I don't know! I don't know.
But I do know that I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being the last girl they date before they get married. I'm tired of them looking at me such that their wives shoot daggers and their communications come from the shadows. To the wives: I don't want your husbands. You went through my laundry, remember? To the men: what are you holding onto? What is it?
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