It always strikes abruptly, furtively and without warning. A girl waves to a male. A boy takes note of a familiar car at the Belmont. The circumstances vary. Everyone asks the same questions.
“How do you know that guy?”
“I didn’t know you were friends with her.”
No one wants full disclosure, but everyone inquires.
“Is that really how you know him?
“Yeah.... Kind of.” Practice your poker face.
“Did you hook up with her?” Awkward silence. It has happened again.
You can’t change the past. In fact, it’s probably sitting just a few rows behind you in your 10:20 a.m. lecture. Given these unavoidable confrontations, one must learn to tread the line between implicit and explicit. “That’s not how my ex used to do it…,” is a mood poisoner, if not a relationship killer. Still, when two members of the opposite sex hold eye contact for a little too long or a T-shirt with mysterious Greek letters appears, questions emerge.
Generally, men employ denial. They try to believe that their girlfriends were blessed with natural sexual prowess. As Ludacris astutely noted, men want “a lady in the street but a freak in the bed.” I would qualify this statement as only applicable to the bed of said freak’s current partner—all other beds should be kept out of sight and mind. When it comes to a girl’s sexual skeletons, most men would like the closet door closed.
On the other hand, the average girl demands full disclosure of every past exploit. In fact, Facebook may have been invented to help girls overcome the hurdles of their laconic male partners and aggressively stalk pictorial evidence of their boyfriends’ romantic past. Although most won’t own up, girls equate the discovery of an ex-girlfriend’s open Facebook profile to the excitement of a BMW in the driveway Christmas morning.
Personally, I gobble up every morsel of ex-related detail, hungry for confirmation of my inherent superiority and assurance that I have better boobs. Then, there is the interrogation. “How did you meet her? Where is she from? What are her hopes, dreams and fears? Am I hotter and more talented in bed?” The last question is a statement.
The awkwardness factor doubles on the opposite side of the ex equation. Recently, I had the dubious pleasure of meeting a girl whose boyfriend I knew a bit too much about. Our brief exchange was cordial enough until she said I looked familiar.
“I feel like I’ve seen you before.”
Never quick on my feet, she paused before a flicker of clarity flashed across her face.
“Were you in my Psych 11 class?”
I responded with something resembling a nod, unwilling to admit that she was more likely to recognize my thong, still floating around her boyfriend’s room, than identify my face.
I can only deduce that interactions regarding the ex (or that girl your boyfriend may or may not remember sleeping with) bring out the worst qualities in the best people. Still, we click past one more photo, overreact to an offhand comment. Are we masochistic or simply insecure? That’s a question I haven’t thought to ask.
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