I’m sometimes embarrassed to admit that I am the complete definition of a Drake fan. Single, educated, and in touch with my emotions. I am as much a sucker for the hot boy as Drake is for the hot girl.
His poor taste in the opposite sex mixed with an emotional intellect far more advanced than most makes Drake my twin soul. Yes, my twin soul. I don’t think I’d ever want to date or sleep with Drake, but I might get off by picking his brain for hours.
Drake has become the voice for the fucked up type of men I’m into. You know the ones whose words and actions don’t match until it’s too late? The ones who recognize what’s in front of them but can’t leave the fuckery alone. Drake knows just what to say to get you to understand THAT guy’s point of view. Sometimes I wonder if Drake got ahold of my journal and actually owes ME publishing. Anyways, We’ll get back to Drake. This story isn’t about him.
A few months ago I went to visit my friend Deirdre and her precious baby Locke. Deirdre has been a friend of mine for almost a decade now. We met when I was fresh out of college and running through these NYC streets. I was a different girl then. Lol
When I was younger, I admired her fierce, successful, boss-babe demeanor. We would sit for hours at dinner or over drinks where she would coach me through my career and dating life. I always respected her input, I kind of just felt like she couldn’t steer me wrong. During a previous relationship, she played a therapist role in my life. If she had billed me, I might still be paying the bill. She’s a hell of a listener.
Over the past few years, I’ve watched her flex a new muscle by becoming an incredible wife & mother. Instead of my love coach, she’s my reading list. Instead of my therapist, she’s the one who shares “Mommy stories” now. I like this switch.
After all my goo goo gah gahs with Locke, we got to the adult stuff. We began talking and quite frankly I can’t remember much of the conversation, but a bit out of nowhere she asked me “Do you still miss him Ashley?”
I was taken aback. I knew exactly what she meant and she didn’t even have to lead into her question.
I don’t think about my ex anymore. At least that’s when I tell myself. They say it takes half the amount of years spent in a relationship to “get over” it. As far as my meticulous mind is concerned, that means just about any day now, my mind really shouldn’t wander anymore…. Right?
After a brief pause, I took a deep breath and I rattled off some story about how I don’t miss him, I miss us. I miss having a road dog. I miss waking up at 6am in a panic because tee time is in 15 mins. I miss looking at him and knowing that whatever crazy plan I came up with for the day, he was going to be game.
I thought I sounded pretty convincing but I watched her facial expressions as I spoke, she didn’t buy it. But she also didn’t push me to give more. We moved on.
When I left her house, I got into the car and broke down. I cried. I cried for maybe 15 minutes. I knew I wasn’t being honest.
I’ve worked so hard to be the woman with style & grace who has grown and matured from my past. I’m a Phoenix rising, lighting my own path on the way. Missing the man who tore my heart to shreds and left me a shell of a human being is not in the prototype of the woman I am trying to become.
I pulled myself together and started to drive home. As soon as I made a right onto the west side highway, Drake’s “Redemption” came on shuffle. You see, DRAKE!
I felt the volume on chorus kick up “Redemption’s on your mind when you think about me. Please give me time because I’m searching for the right words to say to you.” You can imagine me now, driving down the west side highway, tears flowing, and guess what comes on next. Maxwell’s “Pretty Wings.” And after that? Drake’s “Doing It Wrong.” Let me tell you, God was on some shit. Song after song, but this time, it was like He was lifting pages from my ex’s journal. As I pulled into my garage, Trey Song’s “Holla If You Need Me” came on.
God had just orchestrated the most amazing playlist that spoke directly to my soul. Hearing all the songs I believed were in part reflective of how my ex felt was therapeutic. I don’t know if he truly feels the way I think but I’m pretty sure I’m not too far off.
Once I pulled myself together, I went into my house knowing that missing him didn’t mean I’m no longer evolving. Missing him is just that; a moment in my day when I remember a memory and the people involved. And guess what? I’m ok with missing him. Because I do.
(You can listen to the playlist as well: Letters From An Ex.)