0.03762 milliseconds of drama

I have done many things in my life I regret. None, more than two months ago, when I let my drunk ex crash in my apartment. And let us say that "crash" is my euphamism for heavy petting/make out session in my bed. I knew he was dating someone, and for some reason it was only after a while did I ever ask about her. He replied that they were of course still together. They were in love. My heart skipped five beats and I felt blood rush to my face. Oh crap.

To make the story even seedier, I had to go to my friend's wedding the next morning. (In my embarrasement, I stayed the rest of the night in our guest bedroom.) I showered, tiptoed back into my room to grab my dress and makeup bag, while the ex was snoring away on my bed. I got ready. Then back in my bedroom, I left a diet coke, a bottle of advil, and a bottle of water by my bedside and ran off to find a taxi. Yes, kids I slinked away from my own apartment.

But that was two months ago. Last week, I recieved a phone message from that ex. I ignored it because I had better things to obsess with, such as Lobsterfest and work. And the truth is I am kind of busy. My professor tells me often what a disappoinment I am and that I really need to start working harder. He said he hardly sees me on the weekends anymore. Screw him. Why should I be inside on a beautiful summer day.

So while I should have been in the lab, I took yesterday off to go to the beach with A. The morning was perfect. We got on the 10:15 train to Manchester-by-the-Sea, and even the fiasco of buying the wrong kind of fare did not muddy our spirits. It was sunny not even a wisp of cloud in the sky. The sea breeze kept every thing in the 80's. The beach smelled salty. The sand was hot.

We brought snacks and lunch. We ate quickly to avoid the seagulls. I read my Entertaiment Weekly cover to cover.

About 3 hours later, we packed up our stuff. We headed back to the train station, buying ice cream cones on the way. I felt destressed. I felt rejuvinated from the sun. I felt happy.

Because it was such a nice day out. A and I decided to walk to Filene's Basement to get a last peek of their stuff before they closed for renovations. We were walking from North Station, with our beach bags, my hair still in braided pigtails. I was wearing a sheer hoodie and boardshorts. A bikini was underneath. A and I were talking about one of her favorite books "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter." And then:

I saw him, my ex. He was right in front of us, his left hand tightly holding onto a leggy blonde 24 year-old woman. The leggy blonde was his girlfriend. Sadly, I would be the worse witness ever because I have no idea what happened. I remember he was wearing a blue shirt and those glasses we had picked out together at Lenscrafters. And I remember waving, and his girlfriend not even looking at my direction.

Seriously, it happened so fast. I might said something. He might of said something. I could not tell you. All I know is that my feet never stopped moving. And A was the only cogent witness to this encounter. The momentary shock was strange. A and I kept walking and she said "so who was that?"

"Ummm," I replied, "that was the leprechaun."

"Oh, it was so quick and I did not even realize....."

We walked into the Filene's Basement and I had a panic attack. I turned to A and said "A, I cannot be in here right now. I need a beer. I need a beer ASAP."

She looked at me and said, "O my God. Of course."

We wander around Downtown Crossing looking for an open establishment. Finally, when we walked into the not so open Ivy restaurant. "Hi, are you open for a drink? I am kind of desperate."

The man in the black t-shirt and blue jeans looked at the two of us with our beach gear, and said "What, a hard day at Yoga class."

"No, I just ran into my ex-boyfriend and his 24 year-old blonde girlfriend."

He looked at me and "Of course, we are open. What do you want to drink. I have "the Knot" it was nice carmel overtones....."

I looked at him and said, "I really do not care, just give me something and fast."

He poured the whiskey in a shot glass. I downed it. I felt like I was in one of those teenage coming of age movies, because it burned so bad I started coughing.

"Good girl," he said. " I have to go downstairs and change but the bartender will take care of you. okay?"

A looked at me in shock. "I can't believed you just finished that."

My hands were shaking. Yes, it sucks to see your ex happy with some one else, but that was not my biggest problem. Why hadn't the blonde looked at me? Did she know? Wasn't I the bad person in this equation? Wasn't she the woman cheated on? I put my head down on the cool marble bar. The bartender poured me another whiskey and A got a beer. I drifted off into silence thinking about my guilt.

Luckily, for me I did have A with me. She talked me back into reality. We talked about her family and her trip to Costa Rica. I forced myself to laugh. Amazing how in how many ways you can delude yourself. I convinced myself that I was okay, and soon enough I was. When we left the bar, the bartender even commented that he was happy to see me smile.

By the time I got home. I was still fairly tipsy. I managed to shower. With my hair a complete wet mess, I lay down and fell asleep with my television blaring channel 38's movie of the week, "Roadhouse."

And that my friends, is the week's millisecond of drama.