I was sitting on the couch the other night with my ex-girlfriend. She had come over for a couple of beers and the football game. I was hoping for more, but nope. She just wanted my cable and beer. The strange thing was I was okay with that.
“So just admit that you miss me,” I said. Okay. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t entirely okay with that.
“I miss hanging out with you,” she said. “That’s what tumbled into a relationship, remember?”
I chuckled. “You said tumbled.”
“Of course I did,” she said before taking another swig of her beer. “I was a journalism major. I pick my words carefully.”
That made me feel a bit uncomfortable. “So you broke up with me because of the sex?”
“The sex was pretty good.” I began to beam, but then almost lost my beer when she smacked me with a pillow. “I said pretty good, not the best.”
Now I put on a pouty face. “You didn’t complain at the time.”
“I told you, the sex was good.”
“Then why did you break up with me?” I asked.
“Because after a while you acted like you were God’s gift to women.”
I was kind of scared to touch that one with a ten-foot pole, but I couldn’t let it slide. That wouldn’t be me. I decided to play it cute. “But what if I am?”
“I want a gift receipt so I can exchange you for a nice pair of super fuzzy socks.”
I clutched my beer to my mortally wounded heart. “Ouch!”
She laughed and turned back to the game. I saw the woman I had fallen for, but I knew that she was happier now that we had broken up. The strange thing was I was okay with that.