Fuck My Ex-Boyfriend AND...I got some tit at the gym this morning

Okay, so if I'm going to do a blog single life, I can't avoid the sex. Someone would say:

"Why would you avoid the sex?"

Because I'm still worried about hurting my ex-boyfriend. What if he finds this? What if a friend forwards it to him? What if this sends him into a deep spiral?

Okay, that might be arrogant. But it's not something I have to worry about. Which leads me to the first title of this blog entry:

FUCK MY EX-BOYFRIEND!

I miss the bastard. Today is one of those days. Yes, I can think of all the shitty things he did (actually, I CAN'T, which is why I'm missing him). Yes, I know there are amazing things that have happened since we broke up. And I know that the universe is rewarding me for making a break. But I miss having a buddy. I miss waking up next to someone. I miss thinking about our future.

I have some very good friends that have reminded me that that's just missing familiarity. And it's true. I miss it. I miss his goddamned face and the freckles on his arms. I miss telling him that he needs to go to the doctor and get the spots checked out. So if you're reading this Nameless Ex Boyfriend and Former Love of My Life, GO TO THE DOCTOR!!!!!!

I can't believe I miss cooking him breakfast. But I came up with things on the fly. I made the best breakfast because I was in love with the person I was making breakfast for. I miss his chest hair and his tummy. I miss the stupid way he'd grab it. I miss telling him he's not fat. I miss looking at him and smiling on the inside. I miss riding in the Topless German (that's what he'd call his convertible BMW). I miss rolling my eyes with affection because I knew he was too attached to material things.

I know there are a ton of things I don't miss. I know my life is free of stress in so many ways. And I know that I'm redirecting my energy in different ways.

Like this morning at a fancy LA gym I have a guest pass to, I got some tit. My friend Esteban likes to say tit instead of cock or weiner or peen or dick. Steam room, open towel, hard tits and even a stolen kiss. When he put his clothes on, he had a great Jack Spade-ish bag and nice shoes. So this was prime quality meat. It was Kobe Cock. But like all fun steam room experiences, they eventually evaporate and we went our separate ways. Such is the nature of it all.

And then when I was on my way to the office this morning, I started missing my Nameless Ex.

You don't think the two are related, do you?