Man, there just is nothing like The Good Exes.
See exhibit A, above. Huggie Bear, a member of The Good Exes in great standing since 2011, and my favorite part to say, former PAC10 champion ball player, recipient of not one, but two Masters, and damned good people in every way one can apply the term.
I can honestly say, he and my other 2 Good Exes are the fucking bees knees. I couldn’t say an unkind word about any of them, and even if I thought I could, I wouldn’t.
They all do this thing, just like this, where they pop up in my life when things aren’t looking so fucking great. It’s like they see me out here floundering, gasping for air, and they remind me I could have it if I would just take a fucking second and breathe.
Except, they don’t say that. They say something fucking amazing and drop the mic and I just sit there for a second and wonder at what point in my life was I put together enough to deserve someone so off the fucking charts amazing as my person.
In the era of Huggie Bear, I was bammin shit. Like, those were the days I was stacking bread like I worked for Sara Lee. Absolutely the height of my street pharmacist career, but I was also still working for Publix, and bartending at night. When I tell y’all that money was stupid fresh, there’s no exaggeration happening. Stupid. Fresh.
He transferred to another state for work before my eventual decline, and I’m happy about that. Although it isn’t like he didn’t know, I’ve never kept anything from him. But at least he didn’t have to see it. I’m thankful for that.
One of the other Good Exes did see it happening, and I still hate that. He still pretends it wasn’t as ugly as it was, though, bless his heart. He never could bring himself to hurt me, not even when I have it coming.
The Good Exes are the reason why I won’t just settle. Why I am not going to start relaxing standards here, or snipping requirements there. How do I know I deserve better than that? Uh, I’ve had better, and they still send me messages like the one above, so I believe I’ll just kick it over here without some nitwit trying to gouge me right in the self-esteem so he can pretend he has a shot.
I’m cool, hoss. Take that shit right on back where you came from.
I’ve nearly resigned myself to the fact that the statistics say, at this point, I’m probably taking this thing to the house by myself. It’s okay, I’m not sad about it. I mean, most of the time. I have my days, as you’re all aware.
I’ll take those few days over the dumb ass shit I’ve put up with from these stupid ass Fuckboys and other miscellaneous lame dudes. You can buy things to fix sad, namely shoes, but you can’t fix the horrible vibe a Fuckboy will drop off at your house and you have to try to sage out of the joint.
Lonely will always be better than torn up, broken hearted, and flat out broke because some dumb ass Fuckboy drank up all the baby juicy juice and ran all the gas out of the damned car cheating on you all night, in your car, no less. No matter how many times you take them back, this is exactly how it will play out. I’ve got one I’ve taken back probably ten times over the years, and now he’s shacked up with my former BFF, because I guess I was out of juicy juice at the time.
Dodged that fucking bullet, huh?
If someone asked me five years ago if I would ever marry again, I probably would have said yes. Today, though. Today I’m just happy I’m wise enough to recognize the same old con, and not be some fucking sucker footing the bill for a dude who will never be loyal and never grow up. I’ve done that. Many, many times, and damned near did it again not too many years back.
The me today, though, she’s not having that shit. I know what a hustle reads like, and we all know that if it has good dick and nice shoes, but not another fucking thing in the world going for it, that’s a Fuckboy, you can place your bet right here, sis.
I’m glad I have The Good Exes, because it’s these screenshots I keep so I remember they’re out there, those good dudes, and they don’t stop being good dudes just because you split up in 2005. They’ll keep on being good dudes until someone spreads their ashes somewhere awesome, because you give them back to the earth to hopefully sprout other good dudes in their places.
If y’all see me out somewhere and I’m throwing handfuls of ashes into the sea, I’m sowing. Not sad, just thankful I was lucky enough to have a handful of people in my life who have shown me why you don’t settle. Maybe a little sad. But that’s just part of touching the memories, it passes.
So, to The Good Exes, thank y’all for never leaving me to wonder if I was a good enough woman, if I was made of something worth being loyal to. Y’all pretty fucking awesome your damned selves.
Please don’t ever change.