How Ex-Sex Changed My Life…For The Better.

If there is one thing I have learned in life, it’s that you always want what you can’t have. The grass is always greener. There will always be someone with a better wardrobe, a hotter ride and a more impressive resume. Such is life.

So, this weekend I decided that I was going to get a little taste of the other side – the other side of my ex-boyfriend’s door, that is.

I blame it on being a Scorpio. Word on the street is that we know exactly how to work our sexy Scorpion magic: We will sit back and wait, silently, passively – no matter how vehemently we really desire something- for the right moment to attack our poor, vulnerable prey (which was, in this case, my unsuspecting, man-whore of an ex).

See, after I broke up with the sleaze (and felt absolutely miserable about it and watched him act like he probably couldn’t have cared less) – I waited. And waited. And waited. Even though we hang out with the same group of drunk, dreadlocked, alcoholic idiots and saw each other at least once every two weeks, I kept my mouth (and legs) shut.

I watched him take other (stupid, naïve, slutty) girls to his bedroom. I listened to him flirt with my prettiest girlfriends. I did my best not to stalk his Facebook more than twice a day. I faked a smile and pretended that anything and everything he did or said meant absolutely nothing to me.

I let him have his fun (with girls much less attractive than myself, might I add), and then, ladies – I attacked. And by attacked, I mean I got extremely intoxicated and asked him to buy me a drink at the bar for our friend’s 21st. The rest is history.

Our weekend was amazing – just the way it used to be. It was passionate, it was hot. I was unbearably sore. The usual.

But, I was also something else. I realized that I….was over it. Over him.

All those months I had spent fantasizing about running my hands through that thick mess of blonde curls, staring into those baby blues, were basically just that. Fantasies. Our real relationship wasn’t that great. He’d actually been quite an ego maniac. He was basically a “woman-loving” (his words, not mine) piece of crap. I had broken up with him, after all.

However, that grass-is-always-greener syndrome took hold right after the break-up and I created a fantasy ex-boyfriend in my head. Fantasy Ex was sexy, intelligent and living a fabulous life full of other women he was totally enamored by. He was the most amazing guy on the planet and I was never going to find another one who loved The Beatles and The Colbert Report as much as I do.

Ha.

Normally, I wouldn’t condone having any kind of sexual relations with someone you once had romantic relations with. I’ve heard that this can get super-messy. Alright, who am I kidding…I’ve experienced this messiness firsthand.

However, I’m now a firm believer that the only reason people pine after their exes is because humans, by nature, want what they can’t have. I thought I couldn’t have him again and it made me feel inadequate, unattractive and down right depressed.

It’s hard to walk away from someone who was so important to you and who you spent every waking moment with. When you don’t know exactly what’s going on in their life at all times, it’s easy to build them up to be someone they aren’t – and never were.

I know it doesn’t work out this way for everyone, and I think that if you’re gonna have ex-sex, you have to understand your reasons for doing so. If you think it’s going to – or want it to – lead to a relationship resurrection, it’s probably best to find a random bar guy to satisfy your sexual urges. However, if you’ve had a little time apart, ex-sex can be exactly what you need to finally detach yourself emotionally – and see this guy for what and who he really is.

Going to bed with my ex was probably the best thing I ever did. I “got” him and because I now know I can – like, whenever I want – and I don’t feel like he thinks of me as complete scum. I was able to see him objectively for the first time in months. I know that he’s not on some “higher” level than I am. I realize that the life I thought he was living, the life I was so ridiculously jealous of, was actually just the way it was when I left it six months ago: full of random girls in low-cut tops, ounces and ounces of marijuana and Trojan Magnums.

And I’m proud to say that those Magnums are probably the only thing I’m gonna miss.