We've all done it. It's just a part of life. Each and everyone of us has looked at a friend whose life is a veritable train wreck and asked, "What the hell are you doing?" What's disturbing is when the friend you're talking to is the person that looks back at you everytime you pass a mirror. I had to ask myself this question about a month ago as I sat on my ex not quite boyfriend's couch watching game 7 of the NBA finals with him and his new girlfriend. Exactly how in the world did I get there? Ahh, let me see, that's it. I wanted to hang out. I wanted to hang out with him, specifically. Because, supposedly, we were past all the bullshit that is us. His bitch moves, my theatrics, him playing stupid, me being mad, any and all feelings, and all the lust stuff. Gone. Water under the bridge. I can hang out with him without supervision without falling right back into that blackhole and getting caught up all over again. I'm over it, he's been over it, we're adults, and we even developed something resembling a friendship. So with this rationale in mind, I call him and ask him what's good for Game 7. He says he's watching it at home and says I'm more than welcome to watch it there as well. So far, it sounds all good to me. Then it happens. He tells me he's seeing somebody. Mmmmmkay. Wasn't quite expecting that, but hey that's cool. I don't want him and he's a serial monogamist so he wasn't going to be single forever. He proceeds to tell me that she's coming over as well to watch the game and he just wanted to let me know so it wouldn't be awkward. At this point, I could've just said, "hey that's cool, I'll watch the game with other folks." But alas, these weren't the words that came out of my mouth. For the life of me I don't know why, but I said, "not awkward at all. So it's cool if I come over?" Stupid, stupid, stupid Liz. Of course it's cool. What guy wouldn't want the girl that used to do that thing with her tongue AND the girl that's currently doing that thing with her tongue on his couch at the same time?
Game day arrives and the ex calls just to make sure I'm still coming over. Do I back out? No, I bring over a bucket of chicken and beverages to share. When I get there, it's just me and him. Sitting there on the couch waiting for the tip off. He's tugging on my fro, I'm calling him an idiot. Just like old times, except all of our clothes are on. You know it's so cool, I'm thinking old girl might not even show up. Oh, but hold that thought, Liz. There's a knock on the door and there she is with her BFF right behind her. Now this is cool. She seems like a perfectly nice woman, a little big in the hips and thighs, but perfectly nice nonetheless. Her sidekick sits down on the adjacent couch and we exchange the usual pleasantries and watch as the Pistons and Spurs (boo) fight to the death. Ben Wallace scores, we both cheer! Woohoo!! Good times. Meanwhile Ms. Hippy and The Idiot That Made Me Cry are groping each other in the kitchen, but it's not like I was paying any attention to them or anything, cause remember I don't care who he sees. I don't want him. Around halftime the black version of "The Tom and Katie Show" decide to grace us with their presence. So she sits on the big couch next to me, and he sits next to her. Nope, this isn't awkward at all. She drapes her legs over his lap. I stare intently at the Spurs cheerleaders. He pulls her close. I'm wrapped up in a UPS commercial. This is fun!!! Then they kiss. Not a deep long passionate kiss, but one of those cute affectionate kisses that are just a smidge more than a peck. That's when it dawns on me. WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!!! Why am I sitting here on the same couch with the predator who ground my heart into mulch and his latest victim? Was I THAT desperate to prove that I am SO over him? Couldn't I be over him from my couch? Am I even over him, really? Who does this? But of course, A GLUTTON FOR PUNISHMENT!!