I managed to make it out of London for the weekend and went to visit an old friend in West Sussex. I was really looking forward to it: the chance to go somewhere by train, the lack of a firm plan once I'd got there, the change of scenery, the fresh air, the running into my ex in their home town.
What?
Yup. Because apparently running into him last month at the club where we first met wasn't enough. Fate decided that it would be best if I see him directly after getting of the train for a night out. Fortunately, this time I was the bigger person and waved an enthusiastic hello. I was greeted with, "What are you doing in my home town?", which perhaps is the traditional salutation in those parts. I didn't mind, as it was more of a confused greeting than a hostile one, and besides, I felt extra cool because I was holding a bottle of beer. :)
And of course, there were no texts asking to meet up, no emails later to say hello, because only like someone like myself would be so silly as to surrender their dignity in such a manner. Like I did last time we bumped into each other.
Ah well. Fortunately I had learned a lesson from last time, and kept my cool. That would likely be a first.
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