Recently, I started a new job and it’s landed me in a part of town that I don’t usually set foot in. I’m way over on the east side of midtown, near the UN, which is a pleasant enough place to work. On my first day I decided to have lunch outside in Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza and as I walked there I had a moment of panic, of – oh shit, I used to date someone who works over here – fear. We haven’t seen each other or communicated in years and for all I know he’s left town, left the country, died. But I was overwhelmed, at least momentarily, with anxiety because the very last thing I need in my life is to bump into HIM. Things ended so poorly between us and, well, he’s such an asshole. A lying, cheating asshole.
I knew the chances of us bumping into each other were slim, but just thinking of it and how much I wouldn’t want to see him ruined my lunch. Instead of enjoying the fresh air and the sunshine, I sat there wrestling with my ghosts. And I haven’t been back to the plaza since.
The ghosts of New York – every single girls got ’em. They suck. There are restaurants, bars and entire neighborhoods that I’ve been avoiding for years, not because I think I’ll actually bump into some ex or another, but because the memories are just too painful to face on any given day.
Sometimes I wonder if men think about shit like this. If they stop going to restaurants because they went there all the time with a girlfriend and after the relationship ended they found it too painful to eat there anymore. I want to believe that they do. That they feel the ghosts of relationships past. That they care that much.
Tags: asshole, exes, single