24OCT2011

Last Friday, I had lunch with my ex-boyfriend. This meeting was, at least on my part, completely platonic, and carefully planned and executed to prevent any kind of potential awkwardness. I KNOW I don’t have to explain this… Ya’ll know what I’m talking about. ;) Nonetheless, I was still prepared for ANY eventuality, and therefore, came dressed in full battle armor and war paint. (= a bad-ass outfit and eyeliner + mascara) ;)

The ultimate purpose of our meeting was purportedly to discuss the possibility of me caring for my "Ex-Dog" and "Ex-Cat" for about a week while he went elk hunting, in exchange for a nominal fee. I was both grateful for his offer and reluctant to accept, as I have BADLY needed any source of capital I can get my hands on, and yet disliked the idea of going back to my "Ex-House" for a half-hour TWICE A DAY. Hmmmm... Practicality triumphs over personal reservations YET AGAIN. ;)

The saddest part about going back to this place?!? By far?!? It wasn’t seeing my old house, my old bedroom, my/OUR old things (many of which are still scattered around the place, held in that weird ownership-limbo)… It was seeing my “EX-PETS”. The first, my “ex-dog”, is a yellow Labrador named Lucy. Technically, she clearly “belongs” to my ex, but because he purchased her a scant 2-3 months after we began our relationship, she has always (effectively) been MY dog, too.

Despite my non-existent formal “ownership”, Lucy was nearly DELERIOUS with glee the first morning I stopped by the house to feed her and let her out. It had been almost a month and a half since I had seen her last. To be honest, her extreme reaction led me to believe that her adorable, tiny little yellow-lab brain had probably chalked me up for dead. ;)

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Nota bene (n.b.): If I was more like Lucy, i.e. a “Yellow Lab” girlfriend, instead of a more complicated “mutt”, things might have worked out between me and the ex-boyfriend. ;)