Many years ago, like over ten, I dated a guy. Let's call him The Ex. The Ex and I dated for several months. At eighteen and nineteen we thought we were a big time, serious couple. But then as most relationships between teenagers, we broke up. I turned into evil, vengeful bitch, and several of my friends may have participated in the tormenting of The Ex. Because we went to different colleges, I never spoke to him again.
Fast forward to over ten years later.
The plan for the day was the guys were going wakeboarding, and the girls were cooking dinner. Kenny went on ahead of me to meet up with our friend and another guy he had never met. When I arrived to help with dinner, I immediately question my friend about this new guy. Why? Because he happened to have the same first name as The Ex. A name that is not common at all. As in, I have never met another person with said name.
I breathed a sigh of relief when, even though she didn't know his last name, she did know that he was only twenty-four. Thank goodness, because that was going to be really awkward.
Awkward like when they walked in the back door, and my husband and the new guy are chatting away and I freeze because it is clearly The Ex who is definitely not twenty four and he has just been hanging out with my husband.