so, i'm at work on saturday, and i casually glance in the lobby as i stroll by, and HEY! it's That Guy i dated for, like, two years in high school. no big deal, right? i mean, we parted amicably enough (even though that 'amicable' status deteriorated a year or so later when i found out that he had cheated on me A MILLION TIMES!!), and it was eight years ago, so i should be able to shake my head at my adolescent antics and go on about my business, right? RIGHT?
except i didn't. i crouched behind a table so he couldn't see me, and frantically waved the hostess over. 'That Guy in the black fleece, you can't sit him in my section. or i'll shoot you.' and then i went to the bartender for comfort, because i knew she'd cuddle me. and there was fretting and the wringing of hands and the gnashing of teeth and the avoiding of a whole half of the restaurant until he left, because somehow, this shook me.
i mean, he was my first serious boyfriend, and my first kiss and the first guy i thought i loved, and (possibly the most damaging, once he turned up a hypocritical man-whore) my Christian mentor at a time when i was just figuring this Jesus thing out. but years have gone by, and i have dated other, (some only margianally) better guys, and even gone to prayer counseling to deal with this thing, and so i feel like it SHOULDN'T FAZE ME ANY MORE!!!
my oldest friend is getting married this may, and, if i'm not mistaken, two of my ex-boyfriends will be at her wedding (right, jacks? or just the one?) and to that i say, well, hell's bells. but it really doesn't bother me, because a) as her bridesmaid, i will look hot, b) they will not be surprising me at my place of business, and c) they didn't toss my heart under a moving subway just for kicks (did i mention that the two years were packed full of psychological, emotional and spiritual manipulation, and that i never even suspected the cheating, because how could That Guy, who was shocked and apalled by my vampish love of TANK TOPS, be getting his freak on with some other girl?)
the question is, i guess, is does it ever go away? i mean, even though you've 'gotten over it,' does the sight of That Person who hurt you most, or first, or worst, ever not give you the unpleasant shakes? does it get better if you see them all the time? or if you know when it's coming? or is it just one of those things you have to solve by fleeing the country?
disclaimer: while That Guy received marginally bad service, and trevor offered to walk over, whip out his unmentionable part, and gently rest it on That Guy's shoulder, no one spat in his food or 'accidentally' spilled hot soup on him. on the whole, i feel he got off lightly.