Rated Ex

Every once in a while, an old boyfriend will contact me. Sometimes to comment on something they read on the blog, sometimes when they run into a mutual friend and want to reminisce, and sometimes to remind me that I once invited them over to watch porn in my parents' bedroom.

(Wrong…on…so…many…levels…)

Yesterday was one of those days.

It is my own fault, I suppose. The guys I dated, I dated for years, so I have long and embarrassing histories with all of them.

There was Tim (not Canetto), who I began dating in college and went on to date for six years. I think we knew it was time to end the relationship when things began to get stale. And by that, I mean that I tried to get his attention one morning by tap dancing naked in front of him while he read the paper. He lowered the paper, said, "That's nice, dear," then raised the paper again and continued reading.

Then there was Rob. Rob was younger and shorter than me. We worked together for the same organization, though we were definitely on different paths…I was focused on my career and going back to school and he was focused on Rolling Rock. I don’t really remember why we broke up, so I did what anyone would do. Through the magic of Facebook, I recently asked him to refresh my memory. He provided the following recap. (My comments are in parentheses):

"It might have been the height issue. I mean, I’ve always been attracted to tall, voluptuous women and sadly, you just didn’t fit the bill. Wait, no…that’s not it…"       

"Now I remember -- you were wickedly intimidated by both my ambition and success. Nope, that’s not it, either. Although I think I’m getting closer…" (To be fair, he did a brilliant job as NRA’s Eddie Eagle mascot at trade shows and events.)

"Sadly, I think it came down to my inability to handle your blatant and outlandish immaturity. I wanted you to grow up and really make something of yourself. Instead you lived with dudes, went out all the time and never really acted like you cared about me! I’m think I’m on the right track..."            

"Wait. It just hit me, you were asking why you broke up with me…I’m dumb." (He’s funny.)

"Honestly, we dated what? Three years? I’m sure the end was crummy." (Just the part where he let the air out of my tires, actually. The rest was pretty civil.)

"Now that I think about it, we had a good run. Whatever the reality was, when I think of you I smile. Not a gross “I just took an upper-decker in your guest bathroom” smirk – but a big Cheshire cat toothy grin." (For the record, I’m not entirely sure that he did not take an upper-decker in my guest bathroom.)

P.S. If you do write about me, be sure to mention my circus-like penis. (I have no idea what this means.)

UPDATE: Thanks to DC Blogs for the link today. That reminds me...if you are not yet following Lilu on Twitter -- do so immediately. She is one of the top 20 finalists to be MTV's first TJ (Twitter Jockey) and she is hilarious.