about last night . . .PART I

there is nothing like a birthday celebration to bring old friends together. friday night marked the first time i'd seen my ex since the news of his engagement thanks to a mutual friend's surprise dinner. after a week of agonizing over the idea of having to see my ex and the possibility of seeing his fiancée, i was fortunate to only have to face one of my fears.

for the record - HE DOES NOT LOVE THAT WOMAN! now on with the night's details . . .

my friends and i posted ourselves at cranberries to wait for the birthday boy. being the woman i am i was sure to look my best, accentuating my best assets, looking as tempting as possible to ensure the end result was achieved - pure doubt in ever letting me go. i donned a fitted white tee adorned with the word chocolate, a red blazer and curve hugging dark jeans. prior to mr. big's arrival i occupied my time and mind to prepare for the battle of the egos that was sure to ensue.

my body sensed the moment he walked through the door. . . lucky for me i had the upper hand when he arrived - standing at the bar, martini in had, head tossed back in sheer pleasure, surrounded by drooling men. mr. big and i locked eyes for a brief moment and i knew the party was just starting.

i'm a fully capable of being a bitch when need be - and this night called for me to bring out all the stops. for an hour and half i intentionally didn't acknowledge his presence . . . in situations such as these only the strong survive. as i maintained the upper hand, Big plotted his own plan of attack.

we gathered to take a few pictures with the birthday boy and for the first time big and i were forced to be within close physical proximity, but i stood firm in my ability to be charming to everyone, but him.

as he and i passed each other in the crowd he bit the bullet stopped me by my wrist and leaned in close to offer his greetings, "i'm not gonna be petty all night . . . how you doing?" "fine, thanks. and of course i kept it moving (if only i'd maintained that composure for the remainder of the night, but i can thank the beauty gods for waterproof mascara).

later, he and i attempted to exchange words over the music of the live band, but conversations between former lovers shouldn't be subjected to pitiful attempts of yelling low enough that people don't hear. this is where i lost control of the evening . . .

mistake #1: we moved the conversation outside . . . and my martini and champagne consumption started to take effect.

we exchanged to usual who said what, did what and he acknowledged two important facts: his wrongs and my treating him as if he were a complete stranger all night. the discussion continued and tears followed shortly thereafter. standing in the cold, wiping tears from my face i realized something . . . the amount of communication we had in that thirty minutes was more productive that the conversations we'd had in the previous two years . . .