Lunch with My Ex "Frank," aka the Devil's Son

Lunch with My Ex "Frank," aka the Devil's Son
Be wary of the man who's too good to be good for you. Photo: Idea Go.

By Zondra Hughes


I’m confident that I dated the devil’s son in college.

For the sake of this post, let’s call him Frank.

Perhaps you’ve dated one of the devil’s sons too, I have no idea how many sons the Devil has, but clearly there’s a franchise. Frank is not evil and out to destroy the world, instead, he’s a conqueror and collector of women.

Frank is temptation in the flesh. He lies, he steals hearts, and generally speaking, women are left worse for the wear after dating the beautiful creature. He is beautiful, and he is a creature.

In the year that I dated Frank, he never had what I needed, but he always had what I wanted— exactly when I didn’t need it.

For example, if I had a flat tire in Chicago, Frank would be in Hawaii, totally unavailable to assist in any meaningful way. On the flipside, if I’m at a gym in New York, Frank would stroll in with a box of fresh Krispy Kremes, still warm and sticky, just the way I like them.  Frank derailed any progress that I made personally, all in the name of strengthening our relationship. Thus, instead of studying a Foreign language, Frank insisted that I spend that extra hour with him instead.

I was in love, and stupid back then. I’m with B.O.B. now, so my stupid days are behind me.  Frank is behind me, too, but that doesn’t stop him from weaseling his way into my life.

Frank’s sense of timing, as it pertains to my wants, is supernatural.  He bumps into me without really trying, even when I’m out of town.

To wit, I was a world away from Frank over the weekend and he called, to leave a message that yes, we were in the same town, at the same moment. “Oh, I wish we could go to the coffee shop and break bread like we used to,” he said in the voicemail. (I didn’t tweet, or Facebook my undisclosed location, and Frank is too involved with Frank to cyber stalk me, so that’s why his sense of timing is supernatural. Frank is always where I am when I’m in the mood for conversation.)

We were breaking bread an hour later.

I typically avoid Frank as he’s just too good looking, too witty, too funny and too entertaining to hang around for long periods of time without falling in love with him.

Falling in love with a man like Frank is an exercise in futility because Frank only knows how to love Frank.

Frank’s parents only know how to love Frank.  On this day, the hostess and wait staff only knew how to love Frank. Frank’s entire world is populated by people who are under his spell of beauty and charm, and they (at one point, yes, I was among them), fuel Frank’s belief that he is God’s gift to society–when clearly he’s the devil’s son.

Over coffee, we laughed, and joked and talked about old times. He flashed pictures of Little Frank, and gave me his riveting perspective of fatherhood, (“my guy is me all over again. I am just so amazed by him; it’s like getting to see myself as a kid, but as an adult now”).

I tried in vain to explain to Frank that his son may have his likeness, but that Little Frank is an individual, not a clone. 

Frank told me to “stop hating,” and added that he could give me a Little Frank if I “got my act together,” and returned his calls more often.

Speaking of calls, Frank’s wife called moments after he offered to be my baby’s father.

“I’ll be back in my room in an hour, just wrapping up some business,” he told her.

At that point I gathered my purse and jacket.

“I got married last month,” Frank explained.

I gave the iciest glare that I could muster.

“At least I’m telling you the truth about it,” Frank continued.  “It’s not like I’m lying.”

I countered that we spoke about his son for nearly an hour, and when I mentioned Little Frank’s mom, he said that “she’s out of the picture.”

FRANK: “I didn’t marry Frank’s mom.”

ME: “You also didn’t tell me that I’m having lunch with a married man.”

FRANK: “You didn’t ask me about my status. … and I didn’t ask you about B.O.B.” 

B.O.B., as Frank knows, is the battery operated boyfriend, and I had to laugh at that. I gave Frank a hug and left.

Frank didn’t lie, he never lied to me; he just always told the truth without telling all of it.

It was never black-and-white with Frank, and even after all these years, he still deals in deceit and shades of gray—and he is not the kind of ex to keep as a friend.

 Have you dated one of the devil’s sons too? Do tell!





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