The Ex and I met online. This was in 1998, and—back then—I was a little bit embarrassed about admitting to anyone that we’d actually met in a chatroom. It seemed sleazy or unpromising or something. So I developed this cover story about meeting in a leather bar. Yeah, that really seemed more socially acceptable to me! Of course, except for belts and shoes, I don’t own anything leather, but the Ex’s favorite leather spot (Philly’s Bike Stop) has a cool sports bar…and it was at least plausible that we’d somehow stumbled onto one another there.
Actually, though, we talked online a few times, and then we talked on the phone. The Ex is a burly, truck-driving kind of a guy, and he has a really macho voice, accentuated by a South Jersey accent. After hearing that voice, I knew I had to meet him. I was off for Presidents’ Day, and he called in sick. He came to my apartment, and we were snuggling within 30 minutes of meeting.
I miss those times. Today, when I was out and about, Valentine’s Day paraphernalia was everywhere. The Ex always made a big production out of St. V’s Day, and I kept thinking he would’ve liked a particular card or tchotchke. At the end of our six-plus years together, the Ex and I hurt each other—and, yet, I’m pretty sure each of us was doing what he thought he had to do. But I was thinking today about the better times, and most of the times were the better times.
Have I ever mentioned here that the Ex eventually married a woman? That’s an entirely different post, though. Or series of posts. Hell, I could write a novel about that….
P.S. It’s somehow noteworthy that I thought of the Ex—and not the Soulmate-Who-Got-Away—when I read this question. Hmmm.
P.P.S. Despite the Vox-provided title, it was absolutely not kismet. I don’t believe in destiny, and you shouldn’t either. Superstitions like that can really mess up your life.