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By B.E.

It was just that one time. I was drunk. We just happened to run into each other and…well, at least we used a condom. Excuses, excuses.

 It is a common misstep that most 20 somethings have stumbled upon in their decade of decadence. The story usually goes like this:  You’re with someone for a while; real feelings develop, but for whatever reason, it just didn’t work out. You two decide to be “friends” and then there is a lonely night, with a bottle of Merlot and a blackberry – or that one Cinco de Mayo where you got uncharacteristically hammered and insist that he meet up with you, only to find you wearing a stranger’s do-rag and a Gerber daisy in your hair. He proceeds to escort you uptown and is mauled by you in the back of a yellow cab as the tequila courses through your veins and you become painfully aware that a strawberry garnish does not serve as a proper meal with which to serve a dozen margaritas. But I digress.

No matter how you slice it, sleeping with the enemy, or the ex boyfriend as is the case here, is never a good idea.

 We all think we can do it. We all think we have found that magic mix or maturity, logic and emotional distance that would allow us to be easy breezy with someone who was at one point, an integral part of our lives. 

Perhaps it is the ego of youth; the illusion that we are all unique snowflakes flurrying in the snowstorm of life. Yes, some of us have different talents, interests and abilities, but when it comes down to it, we are all the same. And most of us, believing we are smarter than our peers, are so bold as to believe that we could do this thing that our embalmed elders would certainly warn us against with no repercussions whatsoever. 


Sleeping with your ex is stupid.

 I hate to brag, but listed under the special skills section on my resume is beating a dead horse; a skill at which I am especially practiced and quite gifted. I have applied this skill to many aspects of my life: career, fitness, and relationships.

I had a boyfriend with whom I was with for about 15 minutes when I was 20. The relationship was short-lived but the torture I subjected myself to after the end of my first real relationship was enduring and excruciating.

A couple of years ago, I was speaking to my often sweetly naïve mother and mentioned that Chris and I had maintained the physical part of our relationship long after the official bf/gf status had. My mom paused, looked at me, and exclaimed, “I always wondered why it took you so long to get over him!” The answer was simple. Sex. I continued to have sex with my ex and as appealing as that sounds when Ne-Yo is crooning away in your headphones, its not. It’s not romantic. It’s not wise. In fact, it’s stupid. Sleeping with the enemy is just plain stupid.

B.E. is a photographer and aspiring freelance writer residing in New York City.

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