How One Finds out About Their Ex
A little over two years ago my sister discovered her inner Jewish grandma, and set me up with her co-worker, Samuel. Samuel was a slightly eccentric French fellow with a penchant for over-sharing, and a fondness for eating crepes with ice cream for breakfast (I didn't complain--but I did gain five pounds in four months). We dated until he moved to Boston for graduate school and I haven't seen or heard from him since. Fast forward to today, and I take my sister out for a drink for her birthday. As we walked towards the subway I stopped and turned to her. I knew I forgot to tell her something important.
"Samuel!" I said. "I wanted to tell you something about Samuel!"
"He got married!" she cried.
I stopped in my tracks.
"What?!" I asked. This was the farthest from what I was going to tell her.
"He did!" she said.
"What?!" I yelled again.
"Isn't that what you were going to tell me?" she asked.
"No," I said. "I was going to tell you I saw a picture of him, and I thought he got fat."
C’est la vie.