I had dinner with an ex the other night. Not an ex but the ex. My first love who shattered, put back together, and shattered my heart again at least three times during our tumultuous (and that's putting it mildly) three year run. And it was, dare I say, a pleasant experience. Is it possible, that despite the hell we put each other through less than a year ago, we are now able to be friends? Apparently so.
If my ex and I are able to be friends, I can say with a large dose of certainty that most exes can find a spot in the friendship zone. We were, and I cannot stress this enough, volcanic together....pure red lava flowing from every faucet of our bond. We drove each other insane. I think of some of the actions I executed while together with him -- actions that at the time I proceeded to carry out as if they were perfectly normal -- and realize just how close to being exiled to an asylum I was. The same went for him. Passionately in love, sure. Psychotically close to the brink of total sadism, well yes, that as well. At the worst of times we made each other truly miserable and yet here we sat just a few nights ago laughing over our failed attempt at love over Pad Thai and greasy spring rolls.
The experience was liberating and one that made me feel ever so mature. Mature -- the very word gets thrown around carelessly in our twenties; most of the time as a way to try and differentiate oneself when drama arises. (Example: "OMG. I'm way too mature [eye roll] to even care what that bitch said about me. Like way. Too. Mature.") I'm guilty of being the girl who cried maturity on several occasions (us damn twenty-somethings...we've always got something to prove) but this time it wasn't total bullshit. It was a genuine feeling of calm and honesty; two things I never felt while we were dating.
We're not robots, of course, and memories are still memories. But, with enough time apart to get over any residual enabling emotions and the shared goal of actually wanting to be friends, the dinner occurred sans ulterior motives on either end. Why bother, you ask? Because I rather be friends with shared memories than strangers with a shared past. Care, for me at least, isn't an item that comes with an expiry date. It is strictly non-perishable.
As we verbally sifted through our romantic history, there was no nitpicking of this transgression or that indiscretion but simply a recap of the good times. It's true what they say; when you think back on all the big moments of your life, it's the joyful ones that stick the most. Does time heal everything? Nope. But it sure does give us room to grow. Damn, I'm mature.
x
