Just in case you were curious, I have perfected the skill of swerving my exes. No, I have not suddenly become a hip-hop artist, it’s just that swerve is the single best word that properly defines the actions I take when I see an ex. I’m not particularly fond of any one of my exes, I’d prefer they all disappear in some black hole. It has nothing to do with the fact that some were cruel or that I may still be pining for one, it’s really that I don’t care for them. I don’t care if they’ve gotten fat, if they’ve gotten married and have a lineup of kids or if they’ve recently been a contestant on Jeopardy, I could really not give a damn. What I do mind however, is having to run into an ex and make small talk, it disturbs my peace of mind.
The plan to swerve is very simple: when I see an ex far away in the distance, I immediately make sure to avert eye contact. There’s just no need to bring attention to my presence. I then try to conceal myself as much and as quickly as possible. This could involve possibly pretending to talk to someone on the phone when I’ve really only dialed my voicemail or I leave an inexplicably long message on my sister’s machine. If I’m wearing a hoodie, I put on my hood at the speed of light. If I also have a scarf with me, I’ll wrap the scarf high up on my face or put on sunglasses (this also applies when I’m indoor, it’s all about the costume baby) all while walking in the opposite direction. And ladies and gentlemen, that’s what I call the swerve. Please refer to this link on urbandictionary.com for a detailed explanation along with examples.
This plan went horribly wrong recently when an ex decided to ambush me from behind. I was talking on the phone to a friend and I hear someone making hissing noises trying to get some person’s attention. Not thinking that it was me, I continued to walk briskly. Suddenly I feel the person close behind me, making one of those hissing sounds while tapping me on the back. Thinking it was probably a long lost friend who had forgotten my name, I turned around and I could have practically died. I’m sure it was written all over my face that I really wanted to yell out loud, “What the hell are you doing here?!” Like I was the mall owner and he had just trespassed – in this very public place, in the city he lived in mind you.
I said, “Hi,” meekly. I was in such shock about his bravery that I couldn’t think straight and be polite. He asked, “How are you? I saw you walking by and thought how long it had been.” All I could respond was “Oh yes, wow!” I can’t think properly when in severe shock. Case in point: the entire time he was interrogating me (yes, it felt like an interrogation) my hand did not budge and my phone was still up to my ear – awkward much?
It suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t even remember his name. This conversation would be tricky. I wanted to go, like now! I could use the fact that I was walking fast to my advantage, to explain that I had somewhere important to go and that I was running late. I mentioned how I was in a hurry to get errands done (which was the truth). He asked me if I would come visit him at his store after finishing my errands, I’m horrible when being put on the spot so I was the classic deer in headlights. If you want me to say yes to you without hesitation, don’t give me time to think and find a way to ambush me with your request. So of course I said yes. He then asked me to promise him that I would come. Was he serious?! This wasn’t fifth grade. Would he ask me to pinky swear next? I think he knew me well enough to know that there was a high probability I’d run away and it was best to coax me into saying yes. I said yes with a flat tone, I wanted to make sure that I properly conveyed my lack of enthusiasm so he would know not to ask me this again.
I never made it back to his store like I promised I would, not purposely, it’s really okay if you don’t believe me. I honestly just forgot. I met some other friends while running my errands that kept my interest. By the time I remembered, I knew he was long gone. I change my number practically once a year and my name on Facebook is so far from my real name that the possibility of having him track me down was very slim. He should have kept to the script and approached me head on, that way he wouldn’t have had to suffer through my deer in headlights moment (again, not purposely). Being friends with the ex may not be for me, but running away from an ex, so my thing.