Repeat Pete

Memorial Day, first and foremost, is about being mindful of the sacrifice that our military members make- sometimes the ultimate sacrifice- and being grateful for them. These men and women and their families shoulder incredible risk, frequent loss and heartbreak and we are so blessed to have them protecting us.
Bearing this in mind kept me out of self-pity when I spent the majority of the weekend watching The Real Housewives, stalking the instagrams of people with actual social lives, wondering why I hadn’t gone to the bathroom in a week, and playing a game of intestinal Russian Roulette with laxatives.
I did, however, have a special visitor from my past. I received a visit from a friend from New York who I used to date. In fact, the last time I saw this person, he was shutting his door in my face after I discovered another woman’s toiletries in his bathroom and called his ass out on it. That behavior usually gives someone the swift kick out of my life that is to be expected. However, this guy (let’s call him Pete) actually became a friend after we stopped dating. Rest assured that I also put him through the necessary 3 years of groveling, apologies, and remorse that it took to earn my respect back. He’s also a cosmetic surgeon and I plan on cashing in on that guilt in the form of a free face lift in 20 years.
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We met up at a small hotel near the beach for a day (and night), and I’m not going to get into the personal and private details. Come on, you know this isn’t that type of place.
What I will say is that I learned a lesson from my rePete with Pete last weekend. When we had been dating in NY, he was kind of a patronizing dick, often asking why I didn’t have a masters degree yet. He believed his life as an MD was more demanding and challenging than mine (his career? yes. His life? no way). When we saw each other Sunday, I realized just how much I had changed and how much he had not. I just didn’t care what he thought or had to say. He was immersed in accolades, financial gain, and prestige. I was focused on being happy and building a healthy life, and he actually seemed jealous.
This is important to remember because there was a time that I didn’t think I was good enough for this guy and it was painful. I can only hope that in the future, when a man hurts me, that I will remember that it’s only a few years time before he is looking in my eyes, telling me how happy I seem. And he will smell of soy sauce and have the abdominal girth of a woman in her third trimester.

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