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.