#10- "Well, well, well..."

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am "the Beyonce of all the single ladies." I am single, for over five years now, and I am fierce. I have had one boyfriend, the relationship went south, I cut him out of my life the night of high school graduation and never looked back. I will not go in to detail about who this boy was, what he did to me or how it made me feel. None of that matters. What does matter is that because of that horrible relationship I was able to redefine my ideal relationship and my perfect partner. For the last five years I have been free to explore my options, to meet new guys, and to figure out where I stand as a woman; turns out, I'm pretty fucking desirable.

The pain did not go away immediately. In fact, not two weeks ago I found myself upset, not over him per say, but over the fact that no one else had come along. But despite moments of weakness, I did shake off the hurt and built myself back up. I am strong, I am confident, I am amazing. I am super nanny pushing two infants in a double-wide stroller down the sidewalk and I look totally nanny chique; worn-in jeans, makeup-free face, sweet Crocs. I have made it. Five years of clawing my fabulous, deserving ass up the mountain...

Guess who was waiting for me at the top.

I knew it was him the moment I turned the corner. I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach like a lion was stalking me in the tall grass. And there he was. I gripped the handles of the stroller tightly, and planted my eyes on his girlfriend walking toward me at his side. I said to the babies, "Girls. Deep breaths. Nobody throw up." Suddenly I was very aware of how short my jeans were, how dry my lips were, and how ugly (and four years ago, hello?) my Crocs were. I was dressed like the 18 year-old version of me. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

I had pictured this moment a million times in my head, imagined every possible way our first run-in since high school could play out. For a while I was dead-set on kicking him in the balls, shoving him to the ground and then just beating his face to a bloody mess with my fists, screaming. After a while that urge melted away and all I wanted to to was snub him, pretend he didn't exist. For the past few years I had planned to be overly sarcastic, make some comment that made it clear he was not to come near me and hope he kept his distance. In all these scenarios I would run to the bathroom and vomit immediately after... or throw up on his shoes. But no matter what, I had to look incredible for the point to land; I was fabulous. Sadly, it was not to be.

Have you ever cut someone out of your life? Was it someone who at one point was your entire world? Because you can not speak to a person for nearly five years, but that won't erase the sound of their voice from your memory. The face might fade, but the voice... It echoes between your ears for an eternity.

"Well, well, well..."

It was happening. He was speaking. To me. He was speaking to me and I had to respond. Decision time. Snub? Sarcasm? Kick to the balls? All very strong options, and had the situation been different I may have chosen one of them. But his girlfriend, who I like, was there, as were two little babies. I could not expose the children to the evil that is bitterness. So... I smiled.

I can't tell you what was said exactly, only that I kept my eyes on his girlfriend the entire time and the conversation was over within two minutes. He asked a question, I responded, and we were speaking. The boycott was called off, the wall crumbled to the ground. A part of my life I had left in the past came flooding in to my present. And it should have been scary, and I should have been shaking and sweaty and tearing up like I always do. But instead I was calm, and friendly and totally pulled together. And as I walked away I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I'd done it!

Two blocks later I was sobbing. It had happened so fast. Was it really over? I pushed the stroller up to the porch stairs of the house and sat at the bottom, facing the babies. "Girls," I blubbered through the tears. "That boy you just met. He hurt me. He made me so miserable, and I hope that no one ever hurts you the way he hurt me because you don't deserve it. You are too beautiful to deserve anything that-"

Laughter.

I looked up and both baby girls were smiling at me, Eleanor giggling and pointing. Apparently my pain was hilarious. I smiled. "See girls, big kids cry too." They laughed more. I laughed. And I cried. I laughed again. We were laughing madly on the front porch and I felt so alive. And so silly. Why did this have to be a dramatic moment? Why couldn't I just laugh about the whole thing? So I did, then and for the rest of the afternoon, and I gave the girls hug after hug for saving me from myself, something I have never been able to do.

So here I am on the other side.

I no longer fear the surprise run-in with my ex, I no longer feel I have to have a boyfriend or look amazing to show him I'm fabulous (because that fact is widely known), and I no longer feel the need for closure; I got it, in the form of two beautiful little girls who don't know the meaning of the word "hate." They are the only reason my knees didn't buckle under the pressure, but now I think I just might be able to stand sturdy on my own next time.

Oh, and lucky for me, I did not throw up that afternoon; Harper, however, did spit up all over herself for my ex to see. It was a great way to distract from the Crocs. Thanks baby girl.

To all the single ladies!