The Ex-files

Interestingly there are 64 words that start with "ex” among the top 5,000 most commonly used words in English. Where dictionaries can accommodate an “ex”, why can’t we?

Some Ex-es survive the break-up tempest to become friends, while some completely vanish as if into the Bermuda Triangle. Do relationships ever really vanish, though, or do they experience a transmutation?

Why is that we keep looking for Ex-es even after the relationship has disappeared? Is it because Ex-es make us feel guilty for letting go or are we jealous a Harley kind of new boyfriend will replace us? I secretly searched for my Ex on Google, Facebook, Orkut, and Linked in and prayed to run into him on the street corner, at a traffic light, or at the grocery store. But why? For atonement or attainment in the unrealized dream turned nightmare?

After spending 6 months with tissues, issues and searches on the World Wide Web, I finally thought I had climbed out of the emotional dumpster and gotten over the rocky terrain. But the cell phone ring that morning made me fall right back into the dumpster. The call was a familiar voice from the “Don’t call registry”. Obviously the Ex-orcism didn’t work; my Ex was back. Now I felt as if I were being chased and possessed agained.

Sleepless nights and a re-hash of our relationship -- tender moments and haunting memories – followed the phone call. And I bought a few more boxes of tissues to sort out my issues. Was this call an act of kindness or an act of cruelty? Was he back so soon to again teach me more lessons? I badly needed a class on “Ex 101”.

Back at the bottom of the dumpster again, I was swamped by questions weighing on me like a mound of earth over a grave. It’s not that easy to transmute an “ex” into a friend. For that matter, it’s not even easy to move an EX from the (almost) the blocked list back into the “accept incoming call” list. Aren’t rules of engagement different between an Ex and a friend?

Equations change when that someone special gets downgraded to Ex. Families on both sides are instantly forgotten and abandoned; friends are torn apart and left hanging clueless; anniversaries and birthdays are like Friday the 13th; and gifts and pictures are packed in cartoon boxes and labeled with a skull and crossbones and put in the attic.

Are expired relationships dangerous? Should they be quarantined or disposed in outer space? Can they cause an “Ex”plosion if handled carelessly? A friend of mine was outed to his parents by a spiteful Ex, but not all Ex-es are nefarious and vengeful. Some are kind, caring and humble … just not to their Ex-es.

So, there he was. From the phone call I knew he was living my dream happily in the US with a boyfriend and making plans for a union ceremony after eight months of being together. Eight months! Could someone erase my three years of hard work in just eight months? Could I be happy for someone living my dream or was I going to turn green with envy and plot sabotage? Should I extend ex-gratia in the form of kindness, unconditional love, forgiveness, and moral and financial support? I happily mutated into a protector, and took the new avtar as a friend, philosopher and guide – all in one.

Do Ex-es come back looking to pay the accrued interest from our earlier deposits in their emotional bank account? Yes they do!

There I was in the red after a few family emergencies. My cell phone cried out again. Another forgotten ring tone from the Do Not Call Registry. Well, it was my ex-gratia! He was offering me a relief package and rope to climb out of the hole that I was in with a no-interest loan. Maybe we can extract more from an ex as a friend than a partner? I didn’t take up the loan offer, but nevertheless I upgraded him from don’t call registry to occasionally call registry.

Do Ex-es come back to remind us of our past (mistake!) or do they come back to express their regret and rebuild the burnt bridges? I thought this was one question that I would never be able to answer, but then Newton seems to have the perfect explanation for why Ex-es keep coming back into our lives. Matter can neither be created nor destroyed, and it always reappears in another form. I’m just glad my Ex is now a friend.

Journey to the ‘Villes

Life comes with no road maps for love, relationships or sex. Some serious travelers try to follow directions; some carefree souls just drive for the fun of it. Some make the journey interesting by picking up fresh travel companions after dropping off the tired ones. For some, the journey goes seamlessly and they continue with the same travel companions even though the ride is sometimes bumpy and rough.

Looking at my parent's generation I was almost convinced that love, physical intimacy and a relationship were to be found during one trip traveled with one person. Comparing my generation which suffers from one night syndrome (ONS), I questioned if we needed to make this journey to feel complete in life? I was not hopeful to complete this road trip, with its many pit stops through different towns.

'Sexville' is pretty easy to find and reach. Starting out early, I found many people willing to travel with me. Traveling with the same person always seemed too much of a hassle when I was younger. I was not looking for love or a relationship, and my raging youth only believed in physical intimacy.

June 13, 2003 was yet another typical day on my journey. I was confident my travel companion on this day to Sexville would leave after a few milestones, and I that I would pick up a fresh passenger at the next rest area. I had traveled before with the companion and was feeling powerful and wanted. Little did I know I was turning into unexplored territory.

My travel itinerary failed to carry a warning about stopping for repeat passengers. It definitely made no mention of the risks of emotional entanglement and bonding. And, here I was. Traveling like a madman without taking my foot off the gas pedal, flying past the rest area and my companion not getting out as we sailed past Sexville.

This journey took me to a remote place, an oasis of love and relationship which I never planned to visit. At first, I felt trapped, but then I began to enjoy the scenery and thrive in the oasis.

My trip lasted 3 years and was full of discoveries. I realized I had out grown my ONS and had developed a new taste – a taste for love and relationships. I was convinced that love, relationships and physical intimacy did exist, even in my generation of fast food and scratch lotteries. What was happening to me? May be I was discovering the beauty of life like my parents?

My journey, however, took a turn in a completely different direction as I continued to drive along the same route as my travel companion decided to take an airplane to the US. We didn’t realize we were leaving the Oasis. Distance made our hearts grow fonder, but the libido stronger – at least in the U.S. I was at the other end of the spectrum, now believing in monogamy, relationship and love. How retro!

We explored new ways to keep our journey together going. We tried to bring back physical intimacy. Phone and web cam sex to satiate hormonal outbursts were added to our travel kits. Unable to bear the churn of desires, my travel companion began to invite more passengers on the trip. He called it an open relationship. I called it a fork in our journey.

I soon found I was taking the road to Singleville and passing through the Valley of Self Discovery. Maybe love, relationship and intimacy are parts of a perfect road trip that is never forgotten. Do we need to cover all three, though, in one trip? Can't they be separate journeys? Importantly, do we have to cover all the destinations with the same person?

As I left the Valley of Self Discovery and while still continuing on to Singleville, I passed through Marriedville. I picked up my fair share of travel companions – all married -- as I passed through the area fraught with side trips. Married men brought physical release devoid of relationship and love. These side trips were short journeys and emotionally safe for a guy like me. As long as the journey included a bit of protection, my travel companions had no problems in knowing how, where and when to get off.

No one warned me, though, of the cops along this route watching out for speeding cars and negligent drivers. Very soon the blue and red lights went on and I was asked to pull over with one companion from the Marriedville turn off; I was ticketed for negligent driving. I thought this was a scenic route to travel, but didn't realize a sudden unexpected storm could make it ugly. In the rear view mirror as I finally left Marriedville, I could see a wreck of a marriage after an unexpected storm and I could see a companion’s spouse shaking a fist as I drove away. I left instructions for my travel companion on how to reach Splitsville.

Why do journeys end abruptly? May be every beginning has an end and every end has a new beginning? I know that Sexville, Singlesville, Marriedville and Splitsville are not destinations for me, but states that I drive through. I know that journey is not linear and perhaps I will revisit these places in the future. I know next time, though, I will pass through the regions with a heavy chest loaded with guilt and questions. Shouldn’t life be punctuated with road signs pointing to love, relationship and sex?