Tex Mex Mix Up

In a world where all men sound the same, how can they expect you not to confuse them on the phone? Exes, another illustrious category, should really know that they're all put into the same recycle bin when it's all said and done. But, we all know those guys who still believe that they were the greatest things to happen to us since … well, since the guy before him.

If only the exes got progressively better. The past really is a hodge-podge of duds and studs, like a bag of mixed nuts or an old box of clothes. Some of us just like a certain type of nut regardless of the other fruits it hangs out wif. Others of us wonder why we pack away shirts that, five years later, we are venerating as vintage.

The point: I embarrassed myself when I had an entire conversation the other night with Ex 050802 thinking the entire time that it was Ex 010603. They really do sound the same, and I'm not talking 'bout they voice, if ya know what I mean.

What has struck me since then is that I had recently noticed how the memories of my exes have begun to run together. It becomes harder and harder to remember who fucked up how, in which room, and with which weapon. Is it age? Of course, it can't be. I’m too young. No, it's more like a Brittany Spears album (or so I've heard) where the background beats and deafening singing make all the songs seem equally unbearable that they all run together.

I felt bad about the mix up… at first. Then, I ate about it. During my chewing sessions, I realized that it wasn't I who has continued to call them; they call me. Maybe I'm just too nice. Maybe I still like it when they call. Maybe I just need a reason to eat more. Whatever the reason, I’m still a time zone away from most of them.

Still, I must return to that idea of going through a box full of old clothes. It's not hard to figure why most were put away upon pulling them out and holding them up to the light to be dusted off. But, there are always those few that you wonder about. Why were they put up? They look great now, right? But, the minute you try them on again, you'll find that the fit is just off. I know; I know. It's something you have to find out for yourself. Trust me; I've done it more times than I'd like to admit.

At the end of it all, the biggest question remains: why do ex-boyfriends, like old clothes, all smell of mothballs, especially when you don't even know where the hell to buy the damned things? Now, that's the real mystery.

Shana tova u’metuka!