But THE EX is the one that you actually planned to take to your family. The one that you considered marrying and even, just maybe having his babies. Never mind that before him you never considered yourself the marrying type and definitely never considered having kids. But there was something about him that made you re-think everything that you ever planned for your life. Like everything.

But then it ended. The why isn't really important. The end is the important part. Because when you're ready to change EVERYTHING about your life for one person, and then one day that person is gone, you realize that you can't ever go back to being the person that you were before.

So you cry a little. Or a lot. Yeah...you cry buckets. There is wine. Lots of wine. Comfort foods. Talk after talk after talk with your friends about the end. And then one day, you wake up, and you realize that it doesn't hurt so much anymore. You don't cry over things that remind you of THE EX. You smell his fave cologne, and you're still standing. See a picture of the two of you smiling, and you're still ok. But all those reminders, you don't seek them out. In fact, you make it a point to avoid them.

No sense in causing yourself unneccessary pain, right? I mean, you stub your toe and it hurts...not the same as a break, but you're more careful going around that corner where you usually stub your toe. Same thing with reminders of him.

So, then, you've got a plan. You move on with your life. Date a few other people. But then for whatever reason, you realize that you have to come face to face with THE EX. And even though some time has passed, you're not ready for that.

So, then what....? How do you deal when avoidance is no longer an option?

So I'm at some club in downtown Pittsburgh with my friends. Somehow, I'd managed to get my hands on a couple bottles of Alize, and I was doing some serious damage to one bottle. The kind of damage where you can't taste the alcohol, just the fruity flavor. And there was this guy posted up on the wall. I have no idea what he said to me, only that he looked an awful lot like Fabolous and he wanted to talk to me. Later, I swore that he said that he was a student at Duquesne, but of course, he wasn't. In fact, he was like 23, somebody's baby daddy and working for PNC Bank.

This was David. He was older, from Harlem, and he liked me for me. He listened to me and he didn't seem to ask for too much from me. Except for all my time. And that I not party with my girls. And that I ignore all other guys. At the time, I didn't see that as being controlling. I thought that was love. My family didn't really have time to talk to me. My mom was in the hospital, and I wasn't supposed to stress her out. My dad was trying to keep it all together for my younger sisters, so couldn't talk to him either. And once I pulled the disappearing act a few times too many, my friends didn't have time for me either. Yeah...i'd pretty successfully isolated myself from everyone.

Everyone except David. So I'd be at his place all. the. time. When I got my paychecks and I got a few new things, I'd tell my friends that David took me shopping. I mean, he'd made it clear that I wasn't his girl,  my friends didn't see the point in me spending so much time with him, and I wanted them to like him.

But the sex was pretty good...sometimes. You see, a lot of times, we had sex because he wanted to. Forget the lack of an enthusiastic yes, me saying no meant absolutely nothing to him. He'd get real close to me, pinch my arms, and tell me that he wanted to fuck. So, we did. And when he decided that he didn't want to use condoms, I went on the pill. I didn't have a whole lot of self-preservation instincts, but even then, I knew that I wasn't about to have his kid. (I'd like to say that we got tested first, but that didn't happen. I did get the clean bill of health after, but yeah...I was extra dumb with him.)

Fast forward to December, I'd dropped out of school. That whole never showing up to class thing wasn't exactly conducive towards getting my degree. By the end of January, I was back in Jersey, living with my parents and working full-time. But I was still in touch with David. Over the course of the nex year, I bought him an X-Box, took Greyhound to visit him regularly, and was even buying groceries for him. Somehow I felt obligated to do all of this. Even after I found out that he had not one, but two kids, by two different women and lied to me about having a second kid.

It took him humliating me in front of my bestie to make me finally quit dealing with him. He told me that he was going to be in NYC and wanted to see me while he was there. So me being me, I rented a hotel room because he said he'd split the cost with me. I got on a bus, and went to NYC. My bestie was already living in the city, so she met me at the Port Authority and walked with me to the Times Square hotel I'd picked. And she kept me company for hours while he never showed up. When he finally did show up, drunk off his ass, she told me, "you know you can do better, right?" and left.

The next night, he'd promised to take me to dinner at the Shark Bar. Of course, that didn't happen. So I locked him out of the hotel room after I called my bestie in tears and asking for advice. I left his bags with the front desk clerk, and took my bus back to Jersey. I wrote him a letter asking for his half of the hotel room, but he never paid. A few times since then, he's called and tried to clown me or just be a dick, but yeah, haven't talked to him since then.

And if I'm really being honest with myself, if my bestie hadn't known just how humiliated I was, I probably would have dealt with David for a lot longer than I did. Pride is a motherfucker...

Looking back, I’ve always been a little standoffish. My grandfather used to demand a hug and a kiss before I could come into his house. As a kid, I would choose to stand outside in the cold rather than be forced to hug someone. I don’t know…maybe my mom wasn’t affectionate enough. Or maybe she was too affectionate, and I had to start demanding my space. Either way, the bubble came about at a rather young age.

It got worse after my first really bad relationship. I dated this guy, David, who was adamant about the fact that he and I were “just friends”. But damn if I didn’t act like a wifey…more than a girlfriend but damn sure wasn’t being claimed. David would clown me to my face…in front of his friends, in front of my friends. But it didn’t matter. I was young, dumb, in love, and afraid to speak my mind.