Does Everyone Deserve a Second Chance?

It has been quite the week. It is a lovely, perhaps slightly cool, Friday evening. I am sitting out on my balcony enjoying a screwdriver and doing what I do best in situations like this: blogging. Processing. Thinking. And if I hadn't used up what little vodka I had in the house, probably getting buzzed, too.

This week has been about the ex. Which one? The most recent one, the one from a year ago, the one who, out of the blue, shattered my heart much more than I thought he could. Ever since that fateful text message, we've remained friends. Slightly ostracized at times, perhaps, but still friends. About once every 6 weeks or so, there'd be a brief text message exchange or a short Google chat conversation. (Which, incidentally, reminded me of yeeeeears ago and using AIM for similar purposes. What goes around, comes around, I suppose.)

Over the past couple of weeks, I'd been thinking about him much more than normal. Ever since one of my many revelations about us post-break-up, I'd left the reaching out to him. "Ball is in his court," as I've often posted on this blog. Once since last summer have I been the one to initiate, and I was rewarded, if you will, with a nice 45 minute text conversation. Otherwise, it's been entirely up to him.

I came to realize fairly recently that I was being... selfish, perhaps? I have often talked about friendship, like dating, being a two-way street. One person can't do all the work, and yet here I was, expecting him to make all the initial contacts.  Frankly, if we were indeed going to be friends, shame on me for not reaching out more. That fine line between being friends and seeming like I was desperate to get him back was hard to find, almost as if it was drawn in shifting sands.

So on Tuesday night, I did. I reached out to him, out of the blue. I'd met up with out-of-town friends for a wonderful dinner at a restaurant I'd never been to but was one I was sure he'd know about or at least really enjoy. It seemed like a benign enough reason to text; friendly, but not demanding a reply, and certainly not looking for anything else. After composing the text in my head the whole drive home - along with debating the wisdom of sending it - I typed it out and hit send.

Good news: I got an immediate response.

Bad news: the response was, "Who is this?"

Awkward.

Ever-pessimistic me took that to assume that he'd done some housecleaning of his contacts list and had deleted me. I replied, "S_____, your ex. Sorry to have bothered you." I then dropped the phone and went about getting ready for bed, feeling dejected. I'd taken a risk, a rare thing for me, admittedly, in dating, and been rewarded with what felt like a slap in the face.

But the conversation continued. He said it was "no bother" and went on to explain he'd gotten a new phone and many of his contacts hadn't carried over. He informed me he'd saved me back into his contacts. My responses were uncharacteristically brief, just single words.

Then the conversation turned again.

I said, "ttyl." He replied, ":-)"

Unlike me, who uses emoticons almost as frequently as punctuation, when he sends a smiley he means a lot more. I can't really explain it. It falls in that category of communication that defies translation, yet two people who know each other very well completely understand. I was quite surprised by it at some level, or maybe that was because I'd had the wind knocked out of me by the "who is this?"

I shrugged and went about my evening, still not quite sure how I felt.  24 hours later, that changed. Again.

Wrapping up a long day, I was logged into one of my many Google accounts doing an end-of-the-day email check and reply. Up popped a chat window from him. Ooooh, twice in 24 hours? I must be in good favor.

I most certainly was. I've blogged previously about him seeming to be probing in texts and such about my current sex life, probes I've never acknowledged. In that chat conversation, it took him all of 4 chat exchanges to go for the jugular.

"So who are you f**king?"

No question there what his intent was. No oblique references to former or potential lovers. Right out in the open, and crassly at that.

I was at a real crossroads. I could choose to end the conversation right then. He's an ex, he's in my past, and we're just friends. Or, I could choose to answer the question and possibly find myself on a slippery slope.

Wouldn't be the first time, that's for sure.

I thought. I sat back in my desk chair, somewhat shocked at his impetuousness. I debated with myself. I called a quick meeting of me, myself, and I to further debate the issue. And then I typed out a reply.

Google chat eventually went to texting. So obviously, I replied in a way that answered his question and led to further conversation.

I have a "follower" on this blog who has trolled me before, chastising me none too kindly for my choices in sex outside of marriage or relationships. They even chose a "name" to post under that expresses their stand. S/he is certainly free to their opinion, which seems to include thinking that I'm a giant whore. Whatever. Still, I don't kiss and tell. Or, sext and tell. I did end up going straight home, alone, and stayed there. But, I will say that we are back in each other's Little Black Books.

For me, I'm fine with that. Right now, I have so much going on, I don't have time for a new relationship. However, mama's got needs and he is able to fulfill those needs more than adequately. Much more than adequately. Will it actually happen? Honestly, I don't know. Tonight we've been casually texting, just two friends with a little flirting. It's nice to actually be back being friends. From there, I have no idea. I'm fine with FWB and would be perfectly happy for it to stay there. Anything more? I really, truly, don't know. He's already done some of the things that made me so hooked before, like referring to "our future," but this time I know what those leopard's spots look like. It's going to take a lot more than some words to convince me. I'm definitely "once bitten, twice shy."

I need to make one thing clear: HE has done the initiating. I texted him saying I'd just had dinner at a great restaurant that made me think of him, and I hoped all was well. Period. End. Fine. I did NOT text or message him looking for a hook-up. This is ALL HIS IDEA. And since he dumped me, I think that's an important distinction.

It is now Saturday, early afternoon. Normally I publish my blog posts the same day I write them. Last night, I saved it as a draft. Posting this is making me feel a bit torn. I've never before gone back to an ex. My friends have varied opinions about him. Today, one of my Zumba ladies exclaimed, "I knew he'd be back." In conversing with my yenta in MN, she admitted she had no place to talk because she was in a similar situation. But I know there will be many raised eyebrows and questioning of my morals and decision-making skills.

And I should note, the way last night's sexting ended has me wondering if all his talk of hooking up soon really will happen. If it does, great. The man is, shall we say, talented. If it doesn't, no skin off my back. (Um, pun not really intended... but still, LOL!)

If this were a soap opera (what's this "if" stuff?), right now there'd be a teaser montage of "on the next episode of Middle Aged Dating Drama..." Since the script hasn't been written, though, you'll just have to wait. As will I.