I guess the universe wasn’t going to let one ex-boyfriend pop in my life without another one following right behind.
Perfect Paul. The last time I saw him was pretty embarrassing. The next time I’ll see him is this weekend, when he picks up the sad pair of shoes he’s forgotten about that have been in the back of my car for the last six months.
They’re ugly shoes. I hate them. They’re like, outdoor work boots. When I found them a few months ago, I let him know I still had them; I hadn’t even realized they were even in my car until I was cleaning it out. He never came to get them of course. I figured they’d sit there until I eventually removed them to die a slow, dusty, rotten death in the garage.
Paul is so not a social media guy. When we were together, he never posted a single photo of me. Not one. We were together for like, a year! I always hated that. He never really liked any of my photos either, or left any comments. Maybe that’s a little shallow of me to wrap my head in this weird world of social media dating etiquette, but I also think it speaks to how my generation communicates.
So, when he liked my Instagram photo this week I knew it was intentional of him. To add to my case, it wasn’t just any photo … it was a photo of me. A really good one, I might add. It was 100 percent, most definitely intentional that he liked it.
Now, this is where it does actually get a little strange. You know those people who post quotes or writings on Instagram as their photo captions? Yeah I’m that girl. I usually stick to song lyrics, whatever’s in my head at the time. So for the next photo I posted, I put a caption in, a personal writing, that I knew only he would get. (He and like, five of my girlfriends who know every single detail, that is.)
Not long after, I got a text message. Paul.
“I can swing by Saturday or Sunday and get those shoes if you’re free.”
My stomach dropped. Ugh. I thought about my response. I could have said, “Sure, I’m free on Sunday,” but that’s a lie. I have plans with Kent. I could have said, “I’m free on Saturday,” but that’s a lie, too. I have a shoot. Having only a small window Saturday morning actually was a relieving answer to give. I can be in a rush to leave, he can just zip on in and the exchange can be quick and completely painless. He can claim his shoes, and I can keep my dignity. It’s a win-win.
Even still, part of me wonders if when he walks through my front door seeing his face won’t break my heart. Stay tuned.
With Love, Lola