Heat Induced Cleaning

A Incomplete Description of an Ex
The story of a 1963 Mustang

Disclaimer: I will offend the past men in my life with this blog. I pray they do not waste their time reading the words.

Ex: one that formerly held a specified position or place

Boyfriend: 2: a frequent lover or regular male companion of a girl or woman.

Marissa's ex-boyfriend: a male lover that once held the seat next to her on the throne.

Break up: 1 a : to cease to exist as a unified whole; b: to end a romance

But I prefer - 4 a : to break into pieces in scrapping and salvaging- it is the best way to describe what happens to me post-break up. I fall into small parts for distribution to the next men in my life. I am stripped of my parts, and sold at auction. I cannot give be original 1963 Mustang for him.

I have had three "proper" ex-boyfriends. The rest were practice and re-bound. And because I believe each of them deserves whatever the truth might bring, I will not be changing names.

Chris: My first "love."

I was 14 and he was 17. All he wanted was to protect me from his ways, and I all I wanted was to prove myself to him. He left for the Navy at 18, and I first learned what it was to fall apart. We never fully resumed our relationship again. I spent the rest of my years in his life taking shots at his pride. He spent the time arguing with his feelings, and trying to save me from whatever was hurting. Our nights as ex-relationship friends were made of debates at to which one of us was the most fucked up. He is now in a relationship with a girl less complicated than I. They are pregnant.

AJ: My high school "sweetheart."

I fell into lust while he ridiculed my middle name in freshman Spanish class. I returned the next year with straight teeth, great breasts, and long hair. He wanted me to be his girlfriend. Our relationship was the classic jock meets nerd. He made me popular and earned me the title of prom queen. He was the track star, and I was the identity crisis ridden teen attempting to discover her identity through black nail polish and converse. My high school days were filled with my attempts at being what he wanted. I learned low self-esteem and jealousy from him. He cheated on me with a girl with thighs the size of my waist. I cheated on him with my future boyfriend.

AJ- All those days I left newspaper early..remember that? I was on I70 hip hop blaring through the speakers of my blue Isuzu Rodeo. My destination you asked? Brian's house. I will not apologize for being a scorned 17 year old female. We gave each other what the other deserved.

I gave too much, and he took what he could. I learned that I could never be enough for a boy. I told him I loved him, and we dreamed of a future of marriage and kids. We never meant any of those hopes. All I have left of him is a drunken photo capturing one of the few loving moments we shared. Our friendship lasted the first few years after high school. Once my naivety matured into wisdom I discovered he did not really want to be my friend, but was only waiting for the night when I had too much to drink and suddenly remembered that I did want him. The last I heard of him was that he is gay. I suppose I didn't have those great breasts after all.

Brian: The "out of my league"

The boy that will always be too good for me. He was what I thought I could never have. I was 15 when I first met him, but 17 before he found me worthy of his time. He was the superstar, and I was the average girl who got lucky. I was the stepping ladder girlfriend, the one before the articles, the prize money, and the European tours. I pitched him against his good friend, and I played the game only a female with a thread of self-esteem could. When I had done my worse to him he discovered something in me that he had not seen before. He taught me that men do want the bitch, and that contrary to popular belief nice girls can finish last. In a repeat of the previous I spent my time perfecting what I thought he wanted. I learned anxiety and stress. I learned how to lose the upper hand. I learned that I could never be enough for a man. He cheated on me with a resident of Detroit, and I cheated on him with an unknown.

Brian- If you are reading this I am sorry. I am not what you thought I was. I looked the fool, but I never played the part.

All that was left of the pre-adolescense rope of self-esteem knotted beyond repair when he unexpectedly terminated our union. I spent the first years of our post-relationship friendship with the impression that if I could only look more beautiful he would realize that I was not average. England and my current boyfriend showed me this was not the way. This is the only ex with whom I still have what only loosely resembles a friendship. He is bigger and better than he was with me. He cannot keep a girlfriend, but he lives the charmed life that will always keep me jealous of him.

Some of you may know that after three years of flings and loneliness I have found not only a boyfriend, but a companion. He may one day be my ex-companion, but I believe that it is a far cry from being the ex-boyfriend.

My current boyfriend (name withheld to preserve excellence):
We are still in our learning process. However I can say that I have learned to be genuine with my feelings. He is teaching me the chords for love.

Companion- If you are reading this, thank you.

In conclusion, I say may all know the pain of heartache.

This is my apology to all those bridges I burned. I have come far from my days as the village bridge burner. I am on the mend.

I am a salvaged 1963 Mustang with a welder for a boyfriend.

"The first time I met the devil was at a Motel 6 she left hell to spend the weekend on Earth just for kicks"