Sometimes I Long for My Favorite Ex

pregnant woman sitting on bed in blue dress with coffee mug

Remember that Sheryl Crow song, “You’re My Favorite Mistake?” Well, there are days when I think of my own favorite mistake. Back when I was twenty-one, my ex was a tall, lean bundle of energy with striking blue eyes and a wild head of bleach-tipped spikes. He was a whirlwind of intellect and personality, one of the smartest guys I’ve ever known—second only to my husband. While my husband’s intelligence is more laid-back, steeped in fantasy novels and biology, C. engaged in heated debates about politics and policy with an intensity that was unforgettable. His sharp wit made waves at our university, and even years later, his infamous quip about modern colonialism still echoes among our peers.

Some days, I can’t help but reminisce about that boy.

I was involved with someone else when we reconnected. “I’m coming up for your birthday,” he said, knowing I was heading home for a few days. “Don’t,” I warned. “You know current boyfriend is coming.” He flashed that endearing, crooked smile. “Maybe I’ll do it anyway.”

“Don’t you dare,” I replied, fully aware of his tendency to take on any challenge. I loved that about him. He pulled me into a back-bending kiss and smirked, “Won’t you just have to wait and see?” as he sauntered away, exuding confidence.

I spent my birthday anxious about two guys possibly showing up at my door for a showdown. Thankfully, he didn’t follow through with his playful threat, but it was that intoxicating hint of danger that made him unforgettable. There was also that time we left our stash in my underwear drawer for my parents to discover. But that’s a story for another time.

Two Decades Gone

I haven’t seen my ex in twenty years. Occasionally, I find myself missing him, even after experiencing the joys of marriage and motherhood. Life has settled into a quieter rhythm. Sometimes, the sultry summer evenings take me back to driving to his parents’ house for some carefree fun, sneaking around while they watched TV. I remember the thrill of shooting cans off his diving board with a BB gun, eliciting screams from neighbors.

He was a bit of a rebel, and I was right there with him.

We shared too many cigarettes and too many loud nights in my dorm room, always turning up the volume when we heard footsteps. He loved to debate, switching sides in arguments just for the fun of it. We skipped classes, blasted music, and drove too fast with the wind in our hair, belting out Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire” as if it were a competition.

Once, I teased him about getting married in Vegas. “You wouldn’t marry me in Vegas,” I insisted, crossing my arms defiantly. “No, you wouldn’t,” he shot back, and just as our playful banter escalated, his phone rang. It was our dorm’s assistant principal, demanding we return immediately.

Thank goodness we didn’t go through with that impulsive plan.

Not Missing Him, But Missing the Thrill

Curiosity got the best of me, and I looked him up. When I found myself in his city, now as a successful lawyer, I drunkenly asked a friend to stop me from calling him after seeing his adventurous mountain-climbing photo. He’s married now, and our kids are the same age. He’s not the tall, chiseled guy I once knew—he’s lost his hair and gained a bit of weight, like many of us.

I don’t miss our physical connection (though it was great)—I’m far happier with my husband. The arguments? They were exhausting, even if they sometimes turned silly, like counting the palmetto bugs we’d squished with a designated spoon.

What I truly miss is youth and the thrill of being reckless. I miss the surprised expressions on people’s faces when they saw us together, the whispers of “Oh, it’s them—what have they done now?” I miss the rebellious spirit, those spontaneous adventures that filled our days with excitement.

But in truth? I’ve outgrown that chapter of life, as has he. I don’t want us to revert to that chaos. I cherish my life with my husband, sharing quiet mornings over coffee, waking up next to someone who loves me for who I am—not just the wild persona I once embodied. I hope my ex has found the same peace.

For more insights on relationships and parenting, check out this related blog post here. If you’re looking for resources on home insemination, Make a Mom is a great authority on the subject, and Hopkins Medicine provides excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination.

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Summary:

The author reflects on a past relationship with an ex-partner, reminiscing about youthful adventures and the thrill of being young and rebellious. While they don’t miss the ex himself, they do long for the excitement and carefreeness of their younger days. Now happily married, they appreciate the stability and love of their current life, hoping their ex has also found happiness.

Keyphrase: My Favorite Ex

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