Why I am not as smart as I like to think I am

Dear Future Self,

If you did something you feel like you shouldn’t even tell your blog about, it was probably a terrible idea.
Also your ex boyfriends junk is not made of candy. Remember this.

Me.

 

In the past few weeks I have become aware that at some point in my life, I must have subconsciously decided that my behaviour (and the consequences of it) is not bound by the same basic principles as everyone else’s.

In this wisdom, about 2 weekends ago I decided it would be absolutely fine for me to sleep with my ex (who, for the record – now goes by Voldemort. Because he must not be named and certainly not slept with).

It all started with an invite to a party for his long time best female friend, who is incidentally one of my best friends also.
Since our last encounter and the slow but steady progression of things with my valentines date, I had decided  I was over Voldemort enough that it would be ok to start moving towards some kind of amicable relationship for the sake of the many friends we still share. To start bridging the gap, I initiated a we few polite texts.. which turned into a few hundred over a week. The conversation was familiar but nothing to worry about. Until the snap chatting started…

Mistake number one. Check.

The party eventually came around and I arrived before he did. Even though most of the people there that I knew were hrough him, everyone was lovely as always. I was well settled in and chatting to people by the time he arrived. There was a brief but polite kiss and hug to greet me – an improvement on the last times I had seen him in public – and then I fluttered off to some other group conversations.

He. Was. Everywhere.

Every group I spoke to he appeared in or close to it. Every time he cracked a joke or there was a break in conversation, he would look over to see if I was laughing or looking his way. As the party started winding down, and the crowd got smaller (and more intoxicated) a few topics of conversation lead to sometimes inappropriate anecdotes from ourselves and others about things we had done together.

Next minute he’s sitting next to me, flicking me, poking me… everyone looking on with intrigue, me being a little flat and standoffish knowing he was drinking.

None the less, immediately after leaving the party the text messages began asking me to come get him so we could hang out at my place. I insisted we shouldn’t. I meant it for about a half hour. After a bit of chit chat – with him repeatedly offering to help me and fix everything that he could (my car, some problems with my lease)- and me laughing at him for being so drunk, I rolled over to go to sleep. Before I can even stop to wonder how long its gonna take, on of his arms is around me and the other is holding my hand. Cue: Oxytocin. I made some comment about missing him. He said he’d even missed fighting with me.

LOL. Obviously immediately we engaged in some intense make out session, quickly leading to 3 rounds of vigorous drunk (well on his part) sex with him going out of his way to please me.
And an extra session in the morning, just for old times sake.

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