Love and Ex in the City
I waited outside the hilariously tacky trailer park lounge in my New-York-working-young-professional outfit. It was a Friday night, and I kind of wished I was dressed in theme for the bar. I longed for bright colors, thin fabrics, and bare skin. Far from tropical, however, the weather enveloped me, mocking my wistful daydreams. I stood in the freezing cold, daring Dan to be a second later.
It had been a while since we’d done the one-on-one catching up thing. Dan is my ex, and we’re one of those miraculous success stories of ex-lover turned current close friend. It was hard at first, and we had a couple periods of hazy grey, but for the most part, we rocked it. We were always better as friends, and that became screamingly clear as we transitioned from boyfriend/girlfriend to friends with benefits to A+ platonic pals. It had been over a year since we’d been an item and over 6 months since we’d last hooked up. We were out of the woods. Finally on solid ground, and I felt so far past our romantic phase that I had since fallen - hard - for another person, Ryan. Way harder than I had ever fallen for Dan. I hadn’t even slipped or lost my balance for Dan. But Ryan. Ryan was the one that got away.
Anyways, I waited. When he finally emerged from the nearby subway station, I closed out of Instagram & got my sass ready.
"Well well well. Look who’s late. Daniel Humphrey."
Smiling, you responded, “Hah. Sorry.”
Infinitely more succinct and laid back than me. We never had the banter thing going for us. We made our way into the bar and sat down on sticky seats sandwiched between the fake porta-potty seat and partial mannequin wall decor. The vibe in this place was spot on for the kitschy, hipster crowd. My pick, of course, and Dan’s concession.
We ordered drinks and commenced the catch-up. Covering everything from work to family to friends to creative outlets. We trusted each other completely. No filters, no taboo topics. The words and alcohol and laughter all flowed easily. And what kind of single young people would we be if we didn’t (extensively) cover our love lives? Or lack thereof, I guess. He began,
"I deleted all my dating apps."
"Bravo. Freeing, isn’t it?"
"Yes. It’s like this. Now, instead of waiting around and getting my hopes up that I might meet the love of my life this weekend, I know for certain that I’m not going to."
Uh. Not the sense of the word “freeing” that I had meant. I’m all for self-deprecation in the name of a good punchline, but I don’t do pessimistic self-annihilation.
"You don’t KNOW that. You still have that other app, right? That whole. Meeting-people-in-real-life one? I mean, I guess it’s fine for you to take solace in this certainty of not meeting someone, as long as you know it’s fake certainty. You could meet someone tomorrow while walking Simba."
He told me about how online dating sucked. About how he had joined Match. How he had sent out 124 messages and got 1 response. I told him how none of that mattered. How he was one of the good ones and how he should trust me because I’m a catch with remarkably great taste in guys.
I told him about Ryan. I told him all the reasons we should have had a future together but somehow got lost on our path to build one. He listened and did his friendly duty of not liking him. Of telling me that I would be okay and that it would all work itself out.
Finally, our thirst quenched and brains fried, we grabbed the check and took turns using the restroom. As I started to bundle up for the stubborn cold, he told me how he’s finally been good again about exercising. I remembered when we were together & he would go through such phases. I laughed and touched his abs, exaggeratedly swooning and testing his reaction. We were always like that together. I played the tease & he played along. It was a bit we knew so well. That’s the level of comfort we had reached, after 15 months of just-friends. We had come out on the other side.
Out in the cold, I hugged him goodbye. It lingered a bit, and we kissed, just for a second. It wasn’t charged, it wasn’t romantic. It was just of two people who have cared about each other for a long time. I turned on my heel to go & told him to get home safely. As I walked away, I heard him call out,
"Wait. Come back."
So I did. “What’s up?”
"I don’t think I’m the guy to be giving you relationship advice right now."
"What do you mean? Your advice was great."
"No, it’s not that, it’s me. I’m just not the guy. It’s just hard, and it’s not the right time for me. It’s hard to be friends with you sometimes."
I honestly can’t remember what else he said. It was all so convoluted and made no sense to me at all. After his vaguely rant-ish monologue, I finally said “okay” and turned again to walk home. Never in a million years had I expected him to even consider wanting me back. Not in that way. First of all, he broke up with me, way back when. Second of all, and much more importantly, we both knew - unequivocally - that we never fell in love and never would. It made me so sad that this bout of loneliness had convinced him that he deserved anything less than magic, than fireworks, than earth shattering, reality shifting true love.
I thought then of New York. This crazy whirlwind of a city in which it’s so easy to feel lonely amongst all the hustle, bustle, and sensory-overload. It tests you. It tries to break you. But darling, we’re unbreakable.
