Champagne wishes and caviar dreams, betch.

Warning: this entry is going to be super emo and about my ex...which will hopefully be the last time I use that term/speak about him. (Friends, I know you are excited about this declaration.)

I had a first love and haven't really had love like that since -- but still looking :) To be quite the honest loser, my heart physically hurt [each time] we broke up. But the final one was pretty ugly and I was told to never be in touch -- it just wouldnt be a good idea. *PS This gentleman was 11 years older than me and was always speaking to me in a condescending manner.

Well, unfortunately, we both live in DC, which is a painnnfully small city. I had dreamed about the day we would run into each other, and me being the creepy ex girlfriend (quit acting like you bitches haven't been there once), I always pictured it to go something like this:

He would be bloated, balding and older. I would be wearing the sassiest outfit money could buy. My hair would be perfect, my shoes would blow Dorothy's slippers out of the water, and I would have some gorgeous cabana boy eye candy on my arm. First I would be civil, then as the conversation closed, I would say, "You know, you really aren't as good of a person as you think."

I always debated that last line because it is petty as hell, but that is how it works with exes.

Well July 4th weekend came around, and I was really in a funk. Most of my friends were out of town and I found myself eating a lot of ice cream and watching "In Her Shoes." It was a BAD scene. I was sleeping a lot as well. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. Then I thought, ahhh subconscious. I hate you. It was the anniversary of the breakup. And I always associate July 4th weekend with that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The breakup and the boyfriend didn't really occupy my thoughts, just remembering that feeling. People that breakup with people on or around holidays should really just quit life. It is mean!

Well, I decided to get myself together, put down the sweets and take a friggin' shower. I went out for the Fourth with some new friends and had an absolutely amazing time. We bbq hopped and drank 'shitty' margaritas. I Joey Chestnut'd so many Hebrew Nationals. Oh man. Then we watched the fireworks on a city rooftop. I was so glad I actually went out. I only really knew one person in the group and generally, I don't accept invitations to go places where I only know one person because I get scared I will have to mingle and deal with STRANGER DANGER. But that day I wanted to be out going, pull myself up from the bootstraps and quit feeling so goddamn sorry for myself. And all I can say is, I should do it WAY more often. So from now on July 4th weekend is the weekend of making friends, eating way too much, celebrating Amuuuurica, getting drunk and discussing really inappropriate things with strangers and strugglin the next day at work.

So this weekend, I went out with a friend for 'fancy drinks' at a local bar. I immediately walked in and saw him. The ex. Barf city. Not only was this not playing out like my super awesome scenario, but he was with his girlfriend -- who is not a total troll goddamnit! I just walked by and kept my cool. Then my friend went and spied on them for me. She had witnessed many a drunken night of me being hysterical about how this kid had ruined my life. I should probably give her some moneys for listening to me. She was there when I saw he had a girlfriend and decided we must immediately drink wine. And as I opened our second bottle of wine, I chipped the shit out of my tooth on the wine key. I was the hot mess express. Choo Chooo.

After cooly walking past him and his girlfriend, I made it to the bar and leaned in and told my friend "He's here." And she knew exactly who it was. She couldn't believe how cool I was being and honestly, I couldn't either. Since his greatness had cut off all communications, I literally hadn't seen him in close to two years. It was like seeing a ghost, and I was totally fine with it. It was actually the best closure I could ever ask for. Also, his spare tire was bigger and he was wearing a messanger bag and going bald. (hate hate hate). And I looked REALLY frickin cute, if I do say so myself. And I never say that about myself. I was happy, giddy almost. So my friend and I got champagne with ginger liquor and a blueberry garnish. In a fitting twist, as we are turning to leave the bar, a cute young man said, "Champagne? Celebrating something?" and I wanted to say "We are celebrating realizing your ex is lame and they are your ex for a reason...and also, if anyone makes you feel bad about yourself, you need to move on." But instead of scaring this total stranger, I said "Celebrating being awesome." Then I walked away, not realizing that was his opening line and he was trying to hit on me. After we left, I heard his friend pat him on the back and tell him it was a 'good effort.' So we toasted that night, toasted to being awesome and self confident, being civil and mature.

So there is finally closure and I will quit creepily mentioning this ghost of a person. Time to keep on rocking in the free world and being awesome.

PS I am almost 25. I will have fun birthday stories for sharing. That is all.