"I have let you go, and everything I went through was beautiful." --Jill Scott, "When I Wake Up"Very-drunk-dancing-with-random-Asian-kid me did something sober-reflective me was quite proud of last Thursday. Asian kid had maneuvered us against one of the columns that conveniently frames Quad's dance floor, and I guess I had my eyes closed or I was looking down at my gyrating hips or something, because all I remember is looking up at seeing that a girl I know was grinding all up on my ex...
...and the world didn't end. I didn't stop dancing with Asian kid--didn't even lose track of the beat. I certainly didn't freak out about it. In fact, I can't remember thinking about it any more substantively than just like, noticing because it was in my direct line of vision. I subsequently noted for the third or so time that night how ridiculous his outfit was, and then I...kept it moving.
And I didn't want to say anything for a few days, because I was fairly convinced that some sort of feelin some kinda way would creep up on me, but it's been almost a week and I've only thought about it as it relates to writing this post. I was bracing myself for flashbacks to when that was the two of us, to our first kiss that happened on that same dance floor...and let me tell y'all, I got nothin.
I watched some other chick grind all up on the first guy to ever tell me he loved me and I really and truly didn't give a fuck, and it wasn't just because I was busy gettin busy with someone else, because I still couldn't possibly care less. It was as uneventful to me as watching any two other friends of mine dance, because we stepped pretty seamlessly into that friends role when we got back to campus, and while I'm certainly missing ze cuddles and ze cocoa as the weather gets colder...I don't miss him.
I suppose this is what it feels like to realize that you're over someone, rather than just to declare it and hope it comes true.
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