What would it be like seeing my EX again? The thought of it was unnerving. I mean, how was I supposed to act? Was I supposed to greet him with a hug? It would be kinda weird not to. We always kissed and hugged “hello” and “goodbye”. But he cheated on me. And we’re getting divorced! So maybe I should just give him a formal “hello” with a smile? Wait, why would I smile? I’m supposed to hate him, right? But I just loved him about 2 months ago. That damn thin line! But wait, once we get past that awkward first encounter, what would we talk about next? What’s the small-talk consist of between recently and un-amicably separated married couples? The stuff that strangers talk about, like the weather? And what latent conversations would really be streaming through our minds as we compare forecasts between the coasts that keep us separated by 3,000 miles? Would I subliminally beg for answers while he begs for forgiveness? Would I even be in control of my emotions or would I start to cry as he describes the intense, dry heat of the desert. Would love or hate rush over me as I explain my appreciation of fall leaves and the anticipation of snow?
More importantly, what should I wear? I couldn’t let my appearance be a dead giveaway that I was an emotional train wreck. The fact that I couldn’t figure out how to navigate through life without him had to be my own little secret. I had to pull it together. I had to put together an outfit that said “I’m totally unaffected by the fact that you cheated on me and I had to hear about it from my BFF after seeking refuge in NYC from our ‘amicable’ separation”. But, it couldn’t say “Look at this sweet piece of ass. Oh, and by the way, I’m not wearing any panties if you wanna go at it for old time sake”. No, I definitely didn’t wanna look desperate for his attention. And I definitely didn’t wanna have sex with his corrupt dick. Instead, I needed to create a look that said, “Look at me. Yes, take a good loooong look at what you gave up. You regret what you did, huh? And now you want me back? Well, you can’t havethis... SUCKA!!! ” Yes, I needed to carefully design an image to make him think that I was a happy, well-adjusted, SINGLE-ICIOUS, New York artist; living her dream and totally fulfilled. Plus, I wanted him to see that I was in better shape than ever; for which I can only credit depression, not discipline... or the Weight Watcher’s point system for that matter. But he didn’t need to know that. Jeans and a t-shirt. Understated but fitted, no doubt.
OMG! How could seeing my husband be such a cerebral and calculated process? It felt like I was prepping for a first date! What to wear? What to say? What to do? What will he think of me? Will he try to kiss me? How surreal when, up until recently, ours was the most natural-feeling relationship I had ever been in. No pretenses, no affectations. No wearing make-up to bed, no closing the bathroom door and, even at my fattest, the lights were allowed to stay on during sex. I had nothing to hide. He had celebrated with me during some of my happiest moments: like, when I booked my very first LA audition. And, he held and cried with me during my worst moments: like, when my stubbornly religious mom initially refused to attend our wedding due to our pre-nuptial cohabitation of merely 4 months. It seemed like yesterday that we were spooning in bed... walking hand-in-hand in Balboa Park with our “dog-child” Brooklyn... sharing orders of Chang’s Spicy Chicken and Crispy Honey Chicken with added broccoli at PF Chang’s before our movie date at the Sherman Oaks Galleria... snuggling on the couch with a bottle of wine while watching HBO’s Entourage. But how quickly he went from being my husband to a total and complete stranger.
Now, after being separated for a couple of months, the thought of seeing him again gave me butterflies. Not the fun, fluttery, “I think I’m in love butterflies” but mutant-like butterflies of mammoth proportions with violent, flapping wings that were scouring the lining of my stomach and giving me ulcer-like symptoms. Tomorrow was the big day. He’d meet me at the theater after my show.