So, Three Exes Walk into a Party...

I arrived at the party with a bad taste in my mouth. Immediately I plopped down into one of those dusty-green canvas camping chairs, several of which had been placed in a lopsided circle in the massive garage. All was quiet for a while. Only the booming voices of two young men broke the silence in the room. I watched the host mull about, not really setting anything up. He tinkered with his laptop, arranging the music which had to be “just right.” In reality, I knew he was just preventing a brief clip of Weird Al or West Side Story from ruining his spit-polished reputation. Above my head hung a piñata, of which the host was very excited about. It was a simple circle, proudly displaying a cartoon depiction of a pair of dinosaurs. We had great fun contemplating the reactions of the guests if they were to find anything but candy once they’ve burst open the piñata, such as oatmeal or concrete.

The first of the real guest arrived shortly after me. I say “real” as I felt entirely alienated from the host’s guest list. He decided to invite the entirety of his robotics team, and then a handful of close friends, only two of which I knew—one I knew very well. I anticipated her arrival, but this goof…? I could care less. I greeted said goof with the straightest expression I could muster. It’s harsh, I know, but I could easily pick out those who were on the robotics team. Such clubs have a tendency to draw in a certain crowd, which is actually a good thing. I was part of it myself, once. It allowed me to feel accepted. However, such a group has recently become miserable to deal with. The guest’s voice was grating. He rambled about the latest iPhone, iPod, whatever. As more of them arrived, we plunged head-first into an Apple versus Microsoft debate. Inside I was screaming, “Lord, get me out of here!” (I’m not even really religious. Desperate times).

Fast forward some. I’m now setting up a gaming console which I agreed to bring, though I knew I wouldn’t be playing it. Some other guest with coke-bottle glasses was telling me where each wire should go, and how to properly set up the network. This is my own system, mind you. At once I excused myself, heading downstairs to “grab something from my bag.” I didn’t come back until hours later. I opened the door to a large room with several people already playing a game. I tensed, spying the one guest I truly cared about. When she saw me, she dropped her controller and ran toward me, leaving poor Sonic to die on the screen. I was glad to see she had her priorities in order.

We embraced, as best friends do. Seeing her in a happy tone set me at ease. I never knew if she’d be coming from an unfortunate incident with her family. However, I wish I could say that her bright, chipper mood lasted all party long. Events turned for the worse as soon as her big ex arrived. Mind you, I’m not entirely clear what their current relationship is. I believe it’s somewhere between “I love you, but why, oh why, won’t you love me back?” and “let’s be friends with benefits! Okay?” It still angers me to this day, knowing that he won’t commit to her. She deserves so much better.

Better yet, Mr. Ex here had his own surprise on the guest list, his own minor ex. Can anyone in the audience tell me what happens when you put three exes in the same room for an extended period of time? Well, specifically, little Miss Ex decided to swing her lanky legs across Mr. Ex’s lap, casually resting upon him. I panicked. Time froze. I saw the rage bubble and boil up deep from somewhere hidden deep within her.

Only seconds later, she’s in the vacant garage, slumped over in a pathetic heap. I remained silent, standing above her a good four feet. “Do you need some space…?” I asked, timidly, as usual. I tried to be the good friend. I was with her for the entire party, talking about her ex, about how she’s miserable with him. I muttered, “You’re too good for him… You give him your all, and see what you get back…?” This only set her into a choked-up fit of whimpering and crying. Having made things worse, I turned for the door. Our host stepped in, having seen her frantic departure. In his usual “I’ll fix it all, just c’mere” way, he pulls her up without a word, embracing her. I hear, “It’ll be all right” while I curse internally. She said she wanted space… But there’s nothing I can do in the moment. She’ll swear off her ex, breaking everything off… Only to come running back into his arms, or into his bed… Ugh…

I wonder if she has any idea how much I love her…