In Cassino: Every Day Is Traumatic In Some Way

If you’ve watched enough movies you’ve see that favorite theme of male writers everywhere: The One That Got Away. In my life I’ve come to believe that there is something about having a penis that makes people especially nostalgic. A lot of people have a hard time moving on but it seems that men have an even harder time. I googled that just now and it turns out that EVERYTHING I THINK IS SCIENCE! Because apparently according to statistics dudes also take way longer to enter into relationships or remarry after a breakup or divorce. You’re probably wondering why I’m rambling about this and you probably want to know where this is going right now. It’s going here: The day before yesterday we ran into my husband‘s “One that got away.” As in, the girlfriend that he was suuuuper in love with and couldn’t get over and couldn’t move on from. Her. It’s not anyone’s fault. Not hers. Not his. Certainly not mine. But seriously, did I have to run into her when I looked like I’d just been dry humped by a camel? Seriously?

We were merrily walking into a coffee shop when I see one of my husband’s friends and sitting right fucking next to him is her. The one. The holy grail of vaginas. Mother. Fucker. It was on a day that I didn’t shower or brush my hair (which I guess could be any day because I’m lazy). I had on zero makeup and Oliver had trampled my coat with muddy paw prints because he knew this was going to happen and he’s out to get me. Sigh. My husband panicked and basically just spun in circles for a minute before nearly running into a wall to escape the situation. Except we couldn’t escape because his friend stood up and was talking with us for like fifteen minutes while the one glared at my husband for not going over to say hello to her. I felt stupid. I didn’t want everyone to notice my intense anxiety so I did what I thought would make it seem like I was not dying inside and I took. a. fucking. picture. at. her. Not “of her” but “at her” in a really deliberate and almost aggressive way as if I wanted to say, “See how NOT scared I am right now?”

Now, I can’t go into detail because I have to let my poor husband have some privacy but let’s just say that he doesn’t talk with her because some stuff happened and he chose to be respectful to me over maintaining his friendship with her (because he tries really hard to be a good partner). She’s not happy about it. I feel slightly guilty but at the same time I don’t because, well, I shouldn’t. Trust me. Anyways, this week sucks. I feel ugly. I want to kick a small person in the shin. And I hope she stubs her toe. And I hope my husband gets something non-fatal but embarrassing like diaper rash. Sigh.

p.s. Never trust anyone who says, “trust me.” They’re usually full of shit.

This is what I looked like when we ran into THE ONE. MOTHER. FUCKER.

This is what I looked like when we ran into THE ONE. MOTHER. FUCKER. (In real life I looked much worse than in this picture. The warm light hides a multitude of sins). 


17 thoughts on “In Cassino: Every Day Is Traumatic In Some Way

  1. Ex girlfriends, particularly Italian ones, are desperate and psychotic. Trust me, I know it all too well also! We should start a club called New Girlfriends and Wives That Are Way Hotter and Funnier and Make Him So Much Happier.

  2. Why DO men all have a “one that got away”? I mean, if it was that simple, couldn’t you just attempt to make amends or something? How hard is it to accept that you fucked up or the other person fucked up and Boom! Incompatibility. And I can’t speak for all women, obviously, but I have been “The One Who Got Away” and when I found out that dude had poster-sized photos of me framed in his house it only creeped me the fuck out and made me more happy that I’d escaped.

  3. Maybe it’s just me or the light, but you seriously look totally good in that picture. I feel your pain from the situation. Just let it pass… like a fart. It really stinks for a few moments but just passes and disappears into the unknown. I just made that up. But it works, I think.

    • I love you. It’s totally the light though (and I put my hair up AFTER I saw her. Before there was like a crazy rats nest thing happening at the crown that was awesomely 80’s. Also, I like it. It’s a good philosophy! I feel like that should be a t-shirt.

    • Ah that works too! That’s the way I usually go. I am friends with a few of my ex’s and my husband has danced with them and hung out with them at clubs and dinner parties, etc. I’m friends with a number of my husband’s “one night stands,” (there are many, many, many of them) but there are a few of the more serious relationships that didn’t end with any kind of closure and resulted in loads of problems in the beginning of our relationship. These few (the ones without closure) and especially this one give me heart palpitations.

  4. I couldn’t stop laughing at you taking a picture AT her!

    But on a more serious note, this sounds terrible! I hate running into Eric’s exes, and they weren’t even serious in the least. Like you, my flaws all seem amplified while her’s seem nonexistent.
    But we know better than that. She doesn’t hold a candle to you. Because NO ONE holds a candle to you. I have seen you in various states: no makeup, hair unbrushed, drunk/hungover, acting like a Gremlin, peeing in bushes in the Champs de Mars (well I didn’t see it, but still…) and let me just say, you’re a goddamned knock out all the time. I agree with Cynthia – when you actually seek out looking good, it’s just ridiculous. And on top of that, 10 second into any meeting with you, you have the masses simultaneously laughing their asses off and questioning their core belief systems. Because you are a gorgeous, intelligent, hilarious, witty KNOCKOUT.

    What I’m trying to say is…you’re my The One Who Got Away.

  5. You look beautiful.!! You have nothing to worry about.! But I agree, why are there always these ‘holy grails’ running around out there. I wish life was much simpler….

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