Sometimes I joke with myself (because I am my best friend, shout out Ariana Grande) that God must find my life fucking hilarious. Because sometimes…. it’s just ridiculous.
Ok, so I met this guy. And by met, I mean that I’ve met him before, (like years ago, according to my friend. Although I only remember meeting him once. Although I definitely knew of him because we have a thousand mutual friends and one of my friends tried to set me up with his roommate, haha.) But I was always in a relationship when we met before. But this time when he met up with my friends and I, I was a free agent. And he confessed his attraction to me to my friend (because this is high school) and bada bing bada boom. So then he wanted to take me on a date. And like pick me up and wine and dine me and holy shit, he’s way too nice/conventional/etc. for me. (The friend to whom he confessed the crush to warned me that he’s way too nice for me. And I was like “Riiiiight?”)
I went on the date. Because why not? I’m a free agent.
On the date, my phone starting ringing. I have like two friends who ever call me, and both of them knew I was on a date and wouldn’t interrupt a date with such a nice boy. So I looked at the phone and who should it be, but my darling exhusband. Who never fucking calls me, much to my chagrin. (Although to be fair, he had called me two weeks previous and we had a nice nostalgic night together. But then radio silence the next weekend, which led to me sending him a bunch of nasty messages about how he never came to my dance show in Cyprus and is an evil human.) So I ignored the call because I assume he’s just drunk and whatever, I was on a date. I’d deal with him the next day. (Hah, foreshadowing!) So he sent a message that I read and ignored and he called some more and I just kept ignoring, obviously. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I’d deal with him tomorrow.
So I went home with the date guy. And he is all nice and shit, so of course he woke up super early to drive me back home at 6am so that I could change and go off to work.
I walked in the door and saw that there was a key in my key card switch (Yes, I live in a hotel room.) So I turned on the lights and saw my exhusband sleeping in my bed like he still lives here. And I just burst out laughing. Because what the fuck?
He woke up from my laughter and the light. And started trying to talk to me. And I was like, “I can’t deal with you right now. I have to go to work.” So I went to work, taught some stuff, and came home to find him still in my room. Waiting. Because apparently he thinks we should be back together. Because apparently I need to stop dating the nice guy and go back to him. Because apparently he’s not done fucking with me.
It took me a few days to get it through my skull that such a plan was idiotic. But eventually I told him that such a plan was idiotic. Because he divorced me three times and under sharia we cannot be back together, ever. And because I have to find the entertainment all the time. And because he never came to my show in Cyprus and he still wouldn’t. And he got upset and said “fine whatever have it your way.” And then he blocked me. Which is understandable, really.
The timing is so ridiculous though. Since I’ve been back from my summer holiday, I have literally been waiting for the day when he’d just appear in my room and say all the stuff he said. (The hotel knows he’s my husband and gives him keys to my room upon request, so it seemed rather inevitable that he’d show up at some point.) But of all the days for him to choose, he had to choose the day that I stayed out all night on a date… What crazy turns of timings. I suppose it’s for the best, since, all things considered, we shouldn’t be together. Sure, our babies would have been beautiful and probably helped create world peace, sure he’s my best friend, sure he’s the only one who can tell me the most boring story in the world, and I’m somehow still enthralled by every fucking word… but sharia. Divorce. Khallas. Right?