Why we hate you, once you're gone!

We've all done it. We're out having a good time and one of your friends says those awful words, "Don't look now but…" and across the room you spot him, "The Ex." Now men, in this situation, sometimes are filled with pride and a sense of accomplishment. Not us. We're ashamed, embarrassed and filled with fear. That's right fear, that he, being full of the aforementioned, will see us and come across the room to "talk" to us. This has women fleeing from bars around the country.  You've seen those ladies, you've likely been one, downing the drink, rooting for you coat check receipt and abruptly ending the pleasant conversation you were having with "Mr. I Don't Know Yet" to head for the door with your three understanding girlfriends using their bodies as shields so "The Ex" can't spot you

But why all the fuss? Is it some puritanical, shamed-based, self-loathing at our corrupt moral character for sleeping with a guy we never intended to marry? No. Close. Well, ok, not close. No, it's because, women talk themselves into things easily, and regret them later. Haircuts are just one example of this. We go the hairdressers, armed with a photo of the haircut we want, we have our $400, we're determined this time is going to be different, this time we will tell the hairdresser what we want, and we will prevail. Do we? Never. We always end up crying in a coffee shop with our friend's saying, "It's no that bad, it'll grow out."  And for three weeks we wear a hat.

You see, we as women are surrounded with opportunities to settle, and, sometimes we take those opportunities and run, or sleep with them, as the case may be. We have a lot of things in our lives like bad haircuts and homely ex-boyfriends. We have jobs that which we are undervalued, we have mops that don't really clean the muck off the floor in one swoop. No matter how much money we make, or how much we have accomplished, if we have visitors over, and the toilette is dirty, we're a failure.

So, in walks the "Ex Boyfriend", the shine is off him now, he stands before us as he really is. A bad haircut. Remember when you met him? You're initial reaction was, "Wow. Well, I guess he's kinda cute. In a Woody Allen sort of way. Bad shoes, but we can get him some decent ones. We'll he is funny, that must be where the Woody Allen vibe I'm getting is coming from, because he looks more like Abe Vigoda…"

But by the end of the evening, all you want is for him to call the next day. He doesn't, it's more like a month. But by that time you have so talked yourself into the guy, you jump for joy when he says, "So ya wanna get something to eat… only I'm kinda broke right now, so maybe you could pay?"  You laugh, and think, "He IS funny!"

Fast forward two years, and there you are will all your friends, the one's who said, "Thank God!" when you dumped him, but never said a thing before that! And there he comes, bad shoes, homely and not at all funny and you just want to run. Why? Because he's a bad haircut you never want to be reminded of. Like all those pictures of you at your best friends wedding in pink taffeta and a Priscilla Presley circa 1962 bouffant hairdo. He's the regretful reminderance of settlements past. There's no pride, there's only, "What was I thinking?" and a hat.