I seriously doubt anyone wants to listen to me ramble about relationships (dear lord, you're all thinking, either she's a nun or a school counselor. I assure you I am neither) but I need somewhere to rant. or unrant, I guess you could call it.

Talking with exes can be one of about eighty things... it can be horribly awkward, forcedly formal, sappily nice, too short, too long, or all of those rolled into one. It cannot be comfortable, amiable, like two friends chatting about old times.

Can it?

Just when I'm in the midst of a post-eighties liberated woman, feminist mindset... I talk for three hours with my ex. Hypocritical? Ya better believe it. I ask for advice, he gives it, we ramble on about our new lives, he asks for advice, I give it, we inquire politely about each others families (saludas a sus padres). And then I do the unspeakable. I ask a personal question. One that was taboo even while we were dating. And you know what he says? He does not (as i had half-hoped) say "i didn't answer it then, and i'm not going to now" nor did he actually answer it. He just said, "I think I've moved on from that, but thanks for asking." He was polite! Civil! And he STILL didn't answer. Avoiding the question, like always. So me, being the subtle person I am, pointed this out.

He laughed. He said "god, you haven't changed much" and I could picture him running his hand through his hair and grinning.

I said "nope, neither have you." and that was it. Oh, there was more conversation, but it really wasn't worthwhile. It was anticlimatic. No, I am not having second thoughts about "dumping" (how I hate that term!) him. I don't think he is either. No, I know he isn't.

Then why the hell do I still feel guilty?

I'm not even supposed to HAVE a conscience. In fact, one of my friends has been assigned to be my conscience for me. And besides this, this... thing, there is really nothing I feel guilty about. How can something so brief (a few months) have an impact on my life that has lasted over what has seemed longer than a year? I really don't know. And what's more, I don't care. Going back to that feminist thing:

I don't want/need/have a boyfriend.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.