Single in L.A.

They’re called your “ex” for a reason. 

Keeping with the theme of things that need not enter my 30s along with me, I’d like to add to the list. My Ex. I can’t seem to shake him. I’ve lived in L.A. for nearly 5 years and 3 ½ of those years have been (semi) consumed with him.

We officially broke up nearly two years ago. I don’t do break-ups to make-up so we’ve never gotten back together. I will go long periods of time without answering his calls and neglecting to acknowledge his presence. Then I either get soft or, quite honestly, “needy” ( if you catch my drift).

Last December I told him to stop calling me (for like the 10th time) because our friendship is basically useless, unhealthy and only beneficial to one of us (e.g. him). He never stopped calling, but I stopped answering – until about 2 months ago.

Go over to Much Ado About Nothing and search for “Harold.” You can read all about some of his ridiculous shenanigans. At the same time you might think that detracts from my Haute factor. You’ll be wrong. Consider my near year long time with him community service hours. Don’t judge me.

You can, however, rest easily knowing that in 61 days Harold will be no more. No, I’m not putting a hit out on him. I’m cold hearted, not maniacal. Theoretically, dude will no longer exist to me.I plan to start my 30s baggage free. 

Erykah Badu will NOT be singing songs about me.

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