The Time Traveler's Ex-Girlfriend

Some days you're on your game and some days you take three wrong trains to work.  Today is going to be the second variety.  The plan was 1) take early train, 2) avoid rush hour crowd, 3) write first blog post during commute, 4) arrive at work early.  Instead, my subconscious thought it would be way more fun to forget to change stops and then head in the wrong direction when I findally do change trains.  My internal compass is consistently in the Bermuda triangle.  Yay, Mondays!

Sitting at the Chicago L stop, blocks from my first "grown-up" job at the Aldo Castillo Gallery, I'm feeling a little nostalgic.  Chicago is an incredible city, one where I've somehow found my little social niche.  And that is truly remarkable.

Self-deprecation is hilarious, but I'm not a Cathy cartoon.  Single life is awesome!  There are a million interesting ways for people just to pop into your life for a period of time.  One day, you're passing them in the street.  And the next, you just happen to look up from your Intelligentsia at the right moment.  Zap-boom-bang...date!

 

I was recently speaking with my ex-boyfriend, who has somehow managed to become my best friend.  Kent* is a successful New York lawyer, a Harvard grad and fluent in French.  From what I can tell, however, Kent was a gigantic weenie in junior-high...unless kids that were their school's only state-championship qualifying mathlete are way buffer than I remember.  So, recently, he's started boxing at a neighborhood gym in Queens.  Pretty bad ass, right?

Kent: At this point in my life, I could beat up all previous Kents.

Me: Uhm, great?

Kent: Well...could you throw down with all previous Anas?

Me: Actually, no.  8th grade Ana was really athletic and played on a boy's basketball team at the Y.

Kent: Well, aren't you afraid that 8th grade Ana will time travel to 2009 and kick the crap out of you?

Me: Not at all.  8th grade Ana would LOVE who I am.  But...I am concerned that I won't be able to shove her svelte self back into the flux capacitor when she doesn't want to leave.

(Seriously, these are the types of conversations two exes have when they've both accepted that the other is bat crazy.)

But, that's the truth.  8th grade Ana would NEVER beat me up.  I am exactly the girl she wanted to be.  This is the life I've been waiting to live.  And that's a pretty powerful statement.

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  • I love this post, Ana! I think 8th grade Steph would be pretty happy with current Steph... except maybe she might wish my room were a bit more purpler, and that I lived on a beach in Australia... and that I was a dancer... okay maybe not that happy with current Steph :p

  • You're lucky. 8th grade Scott won't even talk to me.

  • 8th grade Cory put a kid who was picking on him in the hospital.
    I still salute that kid for who I've become today.

  • I think 8th grade Ian probably couldn't beat me up, but he also probably wouldn't like who I am; I mean, I don't even want to make video games for a living any more! What kind of crazy person have I become? And why did I let my hair grow to longer than an inch? (Full Disclosure: 10th grade Ian thought it would be a wonderful idea to grow his hair longer than a foot, College Junior Ian realized this was a spectacularly silly idea and cut it down to shoulder-length, which College Senior Ian promptly realized was another bad idea, so he cut it down to a medium-length)

    Otherwise he would think it's silly to be kissing girls and wonder why I would ever want to do that. Oh, 8th grade Ian, how naive.

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