Seven Years Post-Breakup, Who’s Better Off?

After you break up with someone, inevitably, one of you will come out stronger and better. This could be with regards to looks, success, career, life, etc, but usually they’re all related. One person is bound to be the most improved.

Before The Boy, I’ve only ever really dated one person, and even that is questionable on whether or not to count it. Sure, I had flings of 1 or 2 weeks, and a high school “relationship” of a month that consisted of holding hands at school and making out on playgrounds, but it wasn’t a real commitment, especially since I broke up with him shortly after we began because I was bored. My first real relationship was also only a month, however, but as the two of us were high school seniors and could drive one another around and go on “real” dates, and my feelings for him were slightly more serious, I still count it. Plus, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have any other relationships on my list and would so feel like a failure.

Three, as I’ll call him since he was a third, was the first person who I enjoyed kissing and allowed myself to fall for. We stayed up late, talking on the phone, and I was enraptured. After a month, however, I could feel him pulling away. He’d previously told me that he’d never broken up with a girl, but always made it so she was the one doing the breaking. I kept this in mind as he came to our internship with his hood pulled tight around his face and he avoided my texts and calls, and I broke up with him. It took me a long time to get over him, and I later found out it was because he didn’t know what to say to me anymore. I still talk to him every now and then, as we text one another on our birthdays and at other random times. The last time I talked to him was 2.5 months ago, when The Boy and I first began dating.

At 2.5 months, I’ve almost tripled my longest relationship record (though barely made a dent in his), but still found myself curious when I received a text from Three last Friday: “really random but are you at bdubs?”

As I was with one of my high school friends/coworkers/the sister of The Boy, who also knew him, the two of us began looking around to find the previous record holder, who I hadn’t seen in seven years. It wasn’t until we were about to pay that I saw him, on his way to the bathroom.

I was shocked. Sure, I’d facebook stalked him a bit, trying to determine the winner of the “Who’s Better Off” contest, but I still wasn’t prepared for what I saw. When we stopped by his table upon leaving, it worsened. Not only had he gained probably 100 pounds, but his eyelids had become droopy, either with alcohol consumption or forehead fat, and one of them had difficulty opening. It was nice to see him again after so many years, but as I stood next to my skinny, fit, sexy boyfriend, wearing the smallest size clothes I’ve worn since I reached full body maturity, I definitely won.

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