My phone rang this morning at 5:15 a.m. 5:15 a.m.! It was my ex-husband. I ignored the call.

No message.

Irritated, I sent him a text. “Why did you just call?”

What follows is the text-message exchange that ensued:

Ex: “Sorry. My girlfriend and I were just talking about past mistakes.”
Me: “Nice. Like me? Or your phone sex calls?
Ex: “Called u on accident. But girlfriend understands past. Thanks 4 bringing it up. Tell John I said hi.”

Me: “Oh snap. Not. It’s cute that you tell me you have a girlfriend every chance you get. Newsflash: I left you.”

Phone rings. It’s the ex. I ignore the call.

Ex: I assume this message is to show he does indeed have a lady with him. “Newsflash he is my man, but he acciendtly (sic) called u.”

Me: “Oh my God, this is so lame. I don’t want your man and I haven’t wanted your man for quite some time, hence the reason he IS your man. I’m sure you’re a lovely replacement for me.”

Ex: “Good night.”

Oh my God. First the asshole fucking calls me on my ONE morning to sleep in. Then he tries to start some childish smackdown with me — hello, want me much still???? — and gives up when he remembers that (a) I’m smarter and (b) more clever than he. And what’s with the girlfriend? “He is my man”??? Who the fuck cares??? If I had a man in bed with me now, the topic of conversation would not be my ex-husband nor would I pull out my cell phone to display his entry in my cell phone’s address book. All it fucking says is, “Josh - cell.” Wooo, big excitement there.
In my experience, the only reason you tell an ex that you have someone else … is because you want them to know you have someone else. It has been two years — seriously, like this week — since we broke up. It has been two years since we had sex for the last, crappy, I-better-fake-it-so-it’s-over time.

All I want to say to the ex is: Let it go, punkin. It’s been two years. Let it go.