Back to You

After my eleven-year relationship went up in flames, I did what any self-respecting woman would do: I kept the house, advanced my career, and became a psychologist. I think I handled it pretty well.

But when I found out he was dating my ex-best friend, Lara, through an Instagram story. I handled that slightly less well.

So, if you thought I'd be an expert at spotting catastrophic emotional decisions-you'd be wrong. Because when Lara called, out of the blue, and asked to stay with me, I said yes. It was a gesture of such profound stupidity it should be studied in textbooks.

My one consolation was that it would be a brief, awkward blip. Ha.

The universe, as it turns out, has a sick sense of humor because she didn't come alone. And now the man I spent years learning to live without is asking me, with every silent glance, to remember everything we were, while staying in the guest room. (The same room we used to have make-up sex in, which is objectively hilarious and also hell).

Letting him go was the hardest thing I've ever done. Letting him back in, under these circumstances, is a close second-and a hell of a lot funnier.