There are many things I can’t stand. And high school, as well as the people I came in contact with during those four years, is on the list.
High school. The mecca of teenage idiocracy. Despite it being a time full of people and things that won’t matter in the long run, nobody could tell you otherwise when you had your heart broken by Abdul. Or when you realized that Keisha really wasn’t your Best Friend Forever. High school came with many struggles. However, it did prepare you for adults who act like teenagers and manage to increase in age numerically but remain 16 mentally. But that’s another story for another day.
High school, for me, was like a plane ride. I had a window seat, but I could only see clouds. There was so much emotional turbulence, but I knew if I could just descend upon my destination (graduation day), I would be free. Senior year I could finally see through the clouds, and it looked as magical as when you’re flying into Vegas at night. I couldn’t wait to get up out of there. Once the door opened, I didn’t look back. Fourteen years later and I’m still not checking for reunions, meetups, or random run-ins out in public. So when an ex from high school slid into my inbox on Facebook, you could imagine my angst.
Let me preface this story by taking full responsibility for his thirst. It was totally my fault. I was grocery shopping and instead of sticking to the items I had on my list, I ventured off into the candy aisle. I had no business there, and because I made such a gluttonous decision, I ran into a girl (the school gossip) I went to high school with. With one hand, she was pushing a shopping cart with an infant snuggled in a carrier. With the other, she was holding the hand of a 3-year-old.
“Hey Girl!” she exclaimed.
Every internal organ I possess recoiled. What’s worse than high school? Seeing people you can’t stand from high school! They ask the same questions, and they are hype for no reason. Which is especially confusing considering that the people I have to face and make phony conversation with didn’t like my a** to begin with.
“Heeeeey,” I replied. You know, like in the dry, that’s-what-I-get-for-coming-down-the-candy aisle kind of way.
She went on to introduce me to her two kids as “Auntie Cynthia” before grabbing my hand to touch her stomach. I could feel the new biscuit baking in her womb. She went on to say she was engaged and marrying the love of her life. After several kaw kaws and kee kees, watching her yell at her 3-year-old for running up and down the aisles, and my restless legs syndrome flare-up, she ran down her list of questions for me:
“You married?”
“Engaged?”
“Got kids?”
“Talk to anybody from high school?”
After I had answered “No” to all of the above, she replied with pity: “Oooooh.” You know, like in the dry, that’s-what-I-get-for-coming-down-the-candy aisle kind of way.
She then said, “Well, it was nice seeing you boo, take care of yourself” and dragged her cart and clan down the aisle. I can’t stand when people say, “Take care of yourself.” Uh duh, that’s what I’ve been doing.
I quickly purchased my items and jetted out of there with a quickness. I got home and hadn’t even put my Talenti in the freezer before my phone sounded the ding of death. The Facebook message application was notifying me that I had a new message. It was from my ex whom I had not seen or spoken to since high school.
“Hey beautiful, I have been thinking about you a lot lately and people have said they’ve seen you around town so I thought I would check on you. How are you?”
She had to have called him as soon as she got in the car. Why me Lord? is what ran through my head, right before I made a pact with the Lord and myself: I shalt never go downeth the candy aisleth ever again. Only trouble lies there.
I put my phone down, ignored the message, and continued to put my groceries away. I watched Basketball Wives and went to bed. The next morning I woke up and looked at my phone and my ex had sent three more messages.
“Hello?”
“Are you there?”
“Wow. So you ain’t going answer after all these years?”
I didn’t. And no, I don’t plan to.
You see, I don’t consider relationships that didn’t carry over into adulthood relevant to my life today. My life has had a surplus of amazing days and opportunities, which I am sure will continue to increase. There is no room for people who will only check in when they hear about me from other people. An ex is an ex for a reason, and like the rest of my high school classmates, he can stay in the past.
So on behalf of all the women across the world whose exes try to creepy crawl back into our lives via social media and text messages, please exit the “new message” template. Your check-ups are not required, nor desired. And no need to worry or wonder if we are okay. We’re doing just fine. You missed the memo because you’re about 15 years too late, bruh…
