Connectivity
Why you should never banish an ex.
“Actually, there is.” I happened to know someone at the brand who could possibly help.
“Is it someone through work?” Jacs asked, her eyes widening in hope.
“Jacqueline, that would be unethical,” I answered. “Better: I have an ex for that. Remember David?”
“Which one?” She asked. Admittedly, I have dated several Davids, a few Daves, a Davey and even a Davie.
“David who works for the designer who made that dress,” I said. “Let me shoot him a text.”
After a quick catch-up, David was able get Jacs the desired look in time for her party.
“Amazing,” Jacs said, her pouty lip broadening into a smile now that her clothes crisis had been averted.
“There’s always a few samples put aside, it’s no big deal,” I explained.
“No, not the dress,” Jacs clarified. “It’s just amazing that you’ve been able to stay this friendly with your exes these last few years.”
I knew what Jacs meant. I recently celebrated my 16th year in the dating world (16 years and 200,000-plus miles) and as my oldest friend, Jacs had been there for all of them. For the first half of my dating life, I was prone to gut-wrenching, scene-causing breakups. Young love for me involved a level of personal investment in relationships that catastro-phized their demise to FEMA proportions. There was the breakup with my last high school boyfriend that was so full of psychological manipulation and subplots that Jacs liked to refer to it as “the lost Edward Albee play.” I broke up with my on-again, off-again college boyfriend so many times my therapist had to keep a scorecard in the notes of our sessions to follow along. Then there was the first of the Davids: I was so devastated by our split and listened to so much Indigo Girls in the grieving process that I briefly flirted with lesbianism.
Somewhere around my mid-20s, I began to understand how and why other friends were able to retain affection for their exes postbreakup. If you want a better ex-boyfriend prospect, start by picking better boyfriend prospects. Usually after you’ve seen someone naked, there’s a kind of intimacy that translates well to close friendship.
One of the Daves was my first ex-as-friend:
He’s my legal ex. When I have questions about the judicial system I call Dave; when he has questions about cufflinks, he calls me. Sometimes we call each other just to talk about the new guys we’re seeing. I learned from him to be patient, a skill he perfected during jury deliberations.
Brent and I didn’t date long because our schedules never corresponded. I work nights as a Style reporter and he works nights as an ER doctor, but that’s not to say his career choice is any less altruistic than my own. He’s my medical ex: Brent reassures me that no, I didn’t overdose on vitamin D supplements; and as I come home late from parties some nights, I take his mind off of trauma surgeries by telling him who fell out of their Louboutins. Brent showed me how great the human capacity for compassion is.
I met Trey after a gig his band did. He tells me about the best new music that will never end up on iTunes. I tell him that if any of his prospective groupies request a character reference, I’m his guy. His example showed me what resilience truly is: Anyone who has hit his head in as many stage dives as Trey is pretty resilient.
When I started dating Corey, I knew if we ever broke up we’d have to remain friends because he’s one of the best bartenders in the city. I toast him as an ex-boyfriend who has taught me more about small-batch local spirits than I knew was possible, and I toast him as someone whose much-tattooed chest I’m always happy to steady myself against after one too many nips from his private reserve.
Looking back at the many things my ex boyfriends, a.k.a. my friends, have taught me, the most important lesson is probably this: A relationship doesn’t have to last till death do you part to be successful. Sometimes a threeyear, or a three-month, relationship can be a success if you take something from it. The best thing I’ve taken from these relationships is the men themselves.