Refried Sex Life

Hooking up with an ex usually happens when you're single (at least, for the sake of keeping things simple, let's pretend it's so.) And it's usually because nothing else save Joey Fatone's new reality show is going on at the moment. Because if that cute "friend" request online or that possibly normal dude who bought you a drink three barstools over or your new neighbor at 16A had any promise, you'd sure as hell wouldn't be returning your ex's call/text/yodeling outside your bedroom window. But hey, you've done your nails, picked your toes, and Supernanny's a rerun--what else, or who else, is there to do?
So I think of hooking up with the ex like going to that neighborhood diner. You never think, during the week or making plans for Friday night, "I really want to eat at The Egg n' I tonight!" It's Sushi, it's Italian, it's anything that doesn't have a "super value menu." But late Saturday night, or hungover Sunday morning, that's where you go. And wait for a table (yes, you're willing to wait up to 20 minutes for a $4.99 pancake special.) Just like you'd wait for your stupid ex at the dive bar on the corner, even as you're still checking your watch and drinking warm Bud swill and telling yourself, that's it, I'm so outta here. But when he shows up 28 minutes later, there you sit, a mixture of resentment and horniness which will at least fuel your first few thrusts. So, in essence, you eat at the diner. Since it's comfort food, you think, yeah, these greasy eggs and over-buttered toast and black sulphur coffee tastes pretty good. Hits the spot.
We'll check back a few hours later when you're on the can with a magazine and Tums and we'll see if that diner will still be in your immediate future.