Getting used to new things

I think it's strange what we can get used to, and how these things don't seem at all strange at the time, not until they're undone.

A recent meeting with an ex highlighted the point for me. Poster Boy and I were getting together for one final exchange of stuff.

(Or we thought it was final, that process seems neverending, the unentwining of things, pictures, friends, bank accounts, tax documents. Everso thankful there had to be no courts involved, no kids, even more)

More than six months had passed, the holidays were over. And we'd both moved on, and both had new people in our lives. Somehow, this was the first meeting at which things were comfortable. I could tease him without getting nasty. We could laugh without following it up with sad silence. No one cried, no one yelled. There was a brief, awkward hug (I refused to shake his hand. That seemed stupid). We shared a beer. He asked me about the New One, I gave up only as much info as I was willing to, danced around other questions. Then Poster Boy, in classic form, asked, "if this dude" was going to try to find him and fight him or something. I laughed, admitting New One had asked the same question of him. But then I answered, "No, no. He's really nice," and immediately after saying it, I realized that there was noticeable surprise in my voice.

Poster Boy looked at me, "Oh yeah? He is? I have that, too," he said, eyes wide, incredulous.

We nodded together, slowly.

"So, do you guys fight?" he asked.

"Oh, no. No." I said, "You?"

"No, huh uh."

We looked at each other, shaking our heads. Shrugged. As if we'd had no idea such a thing was possible.