Can Your Ex Be Your Best Friend?

Today is his birthday, happy birthday, ex.

But wait, Do I want him to be happy? Not really.

Should I care? Not really.

But the twisted part of me wants to send a text that says, “Happy one year closer to needing plastic surgery to look young again.”

See, obsessing over exes is like trying to make sense of a cringe-worthy birthday wish — it just doesn’t work.

Over at The Guardian, it said:

And yeah, it stings every single time.

It felt that way with my first love, and the next love, and it was with him.

Could it be because when a relationship ends, it is a loss?

And we humans don’t like losing? Unlike death when there is permanence, breaking up with an ex, means a life without them but also living a life knowing that your ex lives a life without you.

And that is where the hurt comes from, and it could stay with you for years.

As it did for me, Life stood still for many years.

It is a relentless cycle of heartbreak and questionable decisions, and boy, I have a lot of them.

And when you are younger, you believe that you have all the time in the world, to mourn, to obsess, and to stay bitter or angry.

Only now that I’m in my 50s, that I realize that most of it is time wasted. Time that when you reach my age today, you would often look back with deep regret.

Yes, one should mourn any loss.

But unlike the death of a loved one, where grief never ends, as I knew to be true when Mom passed — the death of romantic love shouldn’t send you into the abyss of perpetual hell.

Avoid pausing your life until you find yourself in love again, or worse to not recover from it and live your days as if you had died.

. . .

Usually on my ex’s birthday month, he would pop into my dreams and it was never pretty.

The recurring theme? He’s happy, I’m not, and to make matters worse, we always meet accidentally. I’m in shabby clothes, and he’s dressed to the nines like he just mugged a GQ model.”

A few nights ago, in the same dream, we ran into each other inside a grocery store, I was in sweatpants and a shirt with a questionable stain on it and he was all dressed up and looked happy.

The only consolation was it wasn’t real — it was all a dream. That’s where I’ll try to answer the question of whether exes can truly be best friends.

And my quick reply was right up there at the beginning of this story, that just like winning the lottery the odds are against you.

You’re more likely to be hit by lightning. Twice.

. . .

Your ex as your bestie?

I have shared a few stories of my ex before. None of which really went viral. And it could be a blessing. I wouldn’t want him reading the story and creeping into my mailbox with some angry rebuttal.

Our last attempt at friendship was after my mom died. He’d met her, and the only thing I had left from him was that red blanket that kept Mom warm in her final days.

Pandemic, grief, forgiveness… I thought, why not? Time heals all wounds, right?

Wrong.

Things quickly spiraled. He became needy, even freaking out when I didn’t reply on Messenger within five seconds. When his partner was away on a business trip, guess who he turned to for emotional support? Me, of course.

The ‘safe’ and ‘familiar’ ex — he saw me as a welcome mat.

Then came the gaslighting, the ‘jokes’ that were thinly veiled insults, and finally, him calling me stupid (not for the first time, sadly). That was it, the final straw, the thread that snapped the already frayed rope of our potential friendship.

My experience is living proof that being friends with your ex isn’t a good idea. And I have a better chance of winning the lottery and when I do, well then, that is more than the poetic justice I richly deserve.

. . .

But it happened to Gwyneth Paltrow, right?

You might insist that it can happen, pointing to Gwyneth Paltrow. But she’s a celebrity who has the luxury to be forgiving and zen about breakups.

Besides, her ex, Chris Martin, is the father of her children. It’s complicated, but as with everything Gwyneth, she turned her breakup into an opportunity to become the face of ‘conscious uncoupling.’

But for us mere mortals, dealing with daily life is draining enough. Adding ‘be friends with my ex’ to the to-do list is like signing up for an emotional marathon with a sprained ankle. It depletes our energy and our life force.

. . .

The Hurt Factor

It also depends on how deep the hurt was. Hurt matters.

In my case, it wasn’t just the gaslighting.

The lies, or the affairs (yes, plural). It was the constant reminders of his choices, the things that made me question my own sanity.

He may have called me stupid, but the real fool was me for letting love blind me for so long.

Here’s the thing: you’ll find love again (and maybe screw that up too, but that’s a story for another time).

As always, we find wisdom in Steve Jobs’s words.

Once the wounds heal, you can see that failed relationship as just a blip on the radar, a stepping stone on the path to becoming who you are meant to be.

But getting there is another story, a journey in itself.

I know that while you are in there, deep in the thoughts like scratching an itch that never goes away. Pondering on the thought of what a beautiful thing it would be to be friends with an ex. And everyone’s life journey is different, it will be up to you when to say enough is enough.

But take it from someone who’s been there, done that, and bought the ‘I Hate My Ex’ T-shirt: moving forward is the best revenge.

The road I chose had a lot of U-turns. I wish I had taken the whole drama like a horse out to win the race, never looking back, moving forward, because years of not living did me no good.

Life is going to throw you curveballs, break your heart, and generally mess with your head. But it’s also going to surprise you with joy, growth, and those ‘aha’ moments that make it all worthwhile.

Your mistakes will also be moments of growth.

You can be the person or spirit if you believe in that stuff, you are meant to be. All bruised up by life, and those scars become proof that you did live a life.

A far more important ending than having an ex back into your life thinly disguised as your friend.

Remember this about friendship:

. . .

The last word

Yes, I don’t want him to be happy on his birthday. I hope today is a reminder that he has gotten old, and realizes that youth fades, even for charming jerks.

That he has more gray hair, laugh lines, and crow lines no longer can be fixed by his bubbly personality or the good sex he used as a veiled weapon to lure his victims into his world of debauchery.

Today should be a reminder that life had indeed caught on with him. Yes, he had a life that he wanted, to have as many sex partners, but I hope the gaping hole he tried to fill with sex remains deep and empty.

Call me salty, but I’m owning it.

—

This post was previously published on Lovingly Yours.

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