Exes & Awkwardness (Pt. 1)...

So, I saw Smooth on Sunday night. 

It was super awkward. 

Or at least, I was. 

I had to go over to his to pick up some things he had for me. Honestly, I was a little apprehensive about having to see him, after what it was like last time, so just in case, I went to the gym, showered, put on my cutest casual-sunday-night-outfit-that-still-shows-off-my-freshly-toned-curves, push-up bra, and a bit of highlighter so I'd be glowing. If he was going to be rude again, then I was going to make sure he'd regret it. 

Actually, on a side note - I had originally wanted to drop by in the day while I was already out running errands, but told me to come by at night, after he'd finished his work, admitting that last time my visit totally threw him off his game for the rest of the day. (points for me)

Anyway, when I got there, he opened the door & welcomed me in with a big smile on his face. 

Damn. That was unexpected.

We chatted for a bit, the usual catch-up - how's your family? Friends? The blog... NBA finals (yuck) - whatever we could think of that didn't involve too much personal information yet still had an air of "friendly". I told him about my big plans for the year, both for the blog & for me, and he told me about his new business.

It was weird. 

I mean, I genuinely care about what he's doing, and he does seem to be getting his shit together finally - started his dream career & company with some partners, go figure -  but standing there making small talk with the guy who, at one point, you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with, is just so strange. It felt like I was outside of myself, standing there, watching the two of us do this strange dance...

And the weirdest part? I kept looking at his face wondering if I could kiss him again if that were to happen. If I could have sex with him, if it went there just then. Is that normal?

He looked amazing. Casual tee & shorts with his perfectly cut body (like 0% body fat you guys) and his tattoo sleeves peeking out from underneath - considering how much sex I've been having lately (as in ZERO), I'm surprised I didn't just turn into a puddle right there. 

But I couldn't picture it. Nothing. No desire what so ever. I looked around the apartment, where I lived for 2 years, and felt like a stranger.  

And then he asked if I wanted to play tennis with him. As in a date. And activity date, but a date nonetheless. I think he was trying to play it off like a casual hang-out, the whole "I have a racket, you have a racket" excuse, but I could see past that. 

I could also see that he was totally checking me out. I could feel his eyes scanning my curves, a satisfied smile curving the corner of his mouth. My butt, my boobs, my tummy. Slowly taking in what was smaller, tighter, perkier. 

And as much as that was exactly what I thought I wanted, it actually really pissed me off. 

Of course he'd notice I was in better shape. Of course he'd comment on how good I looked. This is what he was always pushing me for when we were together - when he couldn't get past the extra 10 lbs and make me feel beautiful anyway. Well too effing bad buddy, too bad for you. 

Anyway, I tried to give some excuse about his schedule being too busy and it being unlikely that we would be able to find a time for tennis, but I think he could see that, so he asked me to just be honest. 

I told him I didn't know. I didn't know last time he asked, and I still don't know now.

So we left it at that, and I left. 

And then I got the text...