PdPd running into an ex

*This is meant to be the first of an ongoing series in which I explore those subjects which render me plein de panique de...

It would be a sin of omission to leave out what happened last Thursday night.

John was busy with a firm event at P.S. 1, lucky dog, but it meant he couldn't accompany me to see Maximo Park at Webster Hall. So I took M, who needed a night out anyway. The Marchviolet had already clued me in to expect a stellar Stone Roses cover from Monsters Are Waiting, and fortunately we got there just in time. We got drinks, boogied to the rest of the set, then headed back to the bar. We are not lushes, we just wanted to snag another round before MP hit the stage, and M needed to close her tab.

Suddenly, in a scene that I SWEAR TO GOD LITERALLY NEVER HAPPENS IN THIS CITY, I heard my name and felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to face an ex. Not just any ex, this is really The Ex. And his wife, a lovely woman I barely ever knew.

And he's not just my ex, he's M's ex. He's Our Mutual Ex. Because he was our Current. At the same time. Simultaneously.

Grrr...

But I'm smiling as I write this because you should have seen the look on his face when I pulled M over to say hello.

After I regained the ability to speak, we had the usual catch-up chat. Later, M and I regretted not having been "mean" to him, but I'm not sure how that would have manifested, except to press him to clear up some of the timeline of that whole fiasco. Double grrr...

I'm not generally one to romanticize my youth anyway, but now that I'm looking back at thirty it is nice to have the occasional reminder of how very much better things are now than they were then. And not just for me, but for everyone involved. As Paul Smith of MP would say, the coast is always changing. Thank goodness.