So very glad...

I didn't marry my first serious boyfriend. We were friends in high school and we hooked up in college. (Well, I went to college while he surfed and worked at a computer company. He also cheated on me with a blonde with fake boobs, most likely while I was taking final exams, but I digress).

Last weekend J and I were at our favorite local Mexican restaurant. It was a busy night and we ended up seated next to a party of about 12 people. Suddenly I did a double take. There, at the head of the table, sat the old boyfriend. He was heavier and his hair was thinning. He had on a mismatched outfit and was wearing a red plastic Hawaiian lei.

I thought about it for a second and decided I should not ignore him. He had actually sent me a message on Facebook a month before asking if I was interested in catching up. I wasn't. But clearly, it was only a matter of time before we'd run into eachother.

Over the din of the diners I heard his goofy laugh and all of a sudden he was standing at my elbow talking to someone in his party. He still hadn't noticed me. I called his name and he jumped about ten feet in the area and clutched his chest. Not for dramatic effect, I think I really startled him. I extended my hand and he seriously looked like he was going to faint.

I introduced him to J and Magnus. He made some shop talk and I was instantly reminded what an idiot he was. How was I ever attracted to this person? Why did I ever consider marrying him? My mother warned me that my life would be a misery if we took a trip down the aisle. She said it had to do with the area of Mexico that his family came from. "Mija," she hissed, "They are the worse...los indios!!! If you marry him, you'll have ten kids and be cooking over an open fire every night!"

So as quickly as I initiated the conversation with him, I was keen to end it. While we said our goodbyes, I looked down at his feet. He had on adult Crocs.

I married the right person. Enough said.