My Ex-Boyfriend

My first week in New York, I met a man. He fit everything on my exception list (French and older), plus his great job was an unexpected additive. We dated for about a month an a half, and one day he became my ex-boyfriend. I'm not going to go into details, but I was sad. Not because I thought I could have done things differently, or because he broke my heart. I was sad because that's just how I felt. I liked him and he liked me and there were no questions about it.

It's been almost a month since I've spoken or seen him, and I've intentionally avoided his area like the plague. I thought I could continue this charade until I was capable enough to bump into him without stuttering from anxiety. That day hasn't come and because my life likes to throw boulders in my path while riding a bike on a beautiful Sunday, life wasn't going to wait until I was ready either.

Friday, I messaged a mother looking for a part-time nanny for her children. She wanted someone who spoke French as well as English, so her rugrats didn't forget what they learned, their year abroad. We quickly hit it off and made plans to meet her, and her children the next day, in her home. "Good job, Tillie" is what your probably screaming but wait! She lived in the conjoined building directly next to my ex. It's so direct, that I have to walk through his building entrance to get to her building. And because life didn't think that was enough, I found out they work in the same department at work. Ugh.

I went for the interview and as I walked to her building this overwhelming amount of heat overcame me. It was freezing cold outside and though I was properly dressed in leggings, boots and a parka, I wound up stripping off my parka to prevent further sweat beads from streaming down my forehead. Lucky for me, I didn't run into him, but the mother really liked me and there are amazing perks to the position that only a fool would pass up.

Now it's the day after and I sit waiting for her decision. A decision that affects me more than she knows.