Reily, My Ex

I had dinner with my ex-boyfriend, Reily, tonight. He's the one I've always referred to as simply the EX.
When my cab pulled up to the gourmet diner, I stepped out, called his name out, and ran to him to give him a hug.

I pulled back from the hug and absorbed the beauty of his face. The bright sweet eyes, his stubble, and the warm effusive way he smiles at me when we're not fighting.

We're at a strange point in our friendship because we both have finally taken the steps to move on. More than dating other people, its a sense of finality that hangs between us- a sense that we'll be just friends, and nothing more.

Over dinner we talked about work, or rather how talking about work seems to stress me out, and we talked about our love lives.

The subject of your love life is tricky with any ex, but its especially strange with Reilly because as insane as it sounds, I'm still in love with him. In love with him like an alcoholic is in love with liquor. I know the relationship is horrible for me. We fight. We bicker. I break out. And all of our friends plead for us to break-up for good.

But as we spoke about the new men in our lives, it was comforting to know that Reily will most likely move on, and will find love again post-psychotic me. And that I will too.

And that no matter what the future brings, he'll still occasionally wait on a bench outside a restaurant for me, me always 10 minutes late, willing to give me that big hug once again.