The Ghosts of Boyfriends Past

I see you less and less in strangers. You used to pop up everywhere.

You were the passenger in the back of the bus with his face smushed against the window watching the asphalt rush by. You were the waiter at the restaurant with the too loud laugh and smirky smile reciting the evening specials. You were the friend of a friend at last Friday’s party, just in for the weekend and mixing drinks like a pro. I saw you everywhere, I saw you often, and my stomach would plummet each time.

Because I would want it to be you as badly as I didn’t.

I spent this weekend revisiting our old places with someone new. In case you're wondering, I experienced a kind of wistful déjà vu but none of the sadness I was expecting.

The scent of fried dough and buttery popcorn thickened the air while the vendors smiled blandly and methodically ladled food onto outstretched plates. My shrimp lay nestled in their bed of creamy grits, no different than six months ago. But this time around, I didn’t need any comforting from my comfort food.

Dunzo.

Some say the opposite of love is indifference, but what about pure, unadulterated hate? What about a blinding desire to literally dismember the person you once might have loved even if you never said it out loud?

What if you want to slap the smarmy, smirking smile off his face with a smack so hard his cheek turns scarlet and your hand sears with heat but it doesn’t matter because the pain is entirely worth it? And he mostly deserves it.

What if you finally (kind of, maybe) understand where Chris Brown was coming from. It’s not his abusive behavior you condone by any means, but rather, you finally recognize the level of bubbling, aching hatred we can feel for other human beings.

And then it turns off like a switch. Just gone. You don’t love, you don’t hate, you don’t care. You’re released from something you didn’t even realize you were still connected to.

It’s over, it’s over, it’s over. Not even this mantra can convey your relief. It sure took a while - certainly longer than you’d like to admit - but all good things must come to an end.