From the Files of Daisy's Ex-Boyfriends, Volume 1.

A year ago today, I swore off an on-again, off-again boyfriend (He Who Must Not Be Named or HWMNBN) of the most vile variety. He cheated when we were senior's in college, and almost a seven months later, after a visit to California, and after he helped me find movers to come back to Chicago, I was still opportunistically allowing him, to paraphrase John Mayer, to high-five my nether regions. In short, it made me feel dirty. And NOT in a good way. I've always been a relationship girl, emotionally and physically monogamous, so this in-between status had gone on too long.

It was this day last year where we were in his apartment, watching a movie or something, while he was unpacking groceries, when my alarm finally went off. I just simply asked him if he ever saw us getting back together or not.

HWMNBN said no.

I knew he would, but it still hurt. I decided I definitely could not be friends with him. It would be too emotionally traumatizing. After many tearful calls to Scarlett, I moved on. Big time. The new And when that relationship ended, too, although more maturely and with no infidelity, Scarlett was there again.

And you know what? I spoke to a mutual friend of ours and found out the girl HWMNBN had cheated on me with had subsequently become his girlfriend in February of 2008. And that she moved to Chicago in September of 2009 to be closer to him. To her, I say, get the fuck out. This guy is bad news, and although, personally, I don't want to know you, I am sure you are a nice enough person. You don't deserve it and get the fuck out.

Now, a year later, I am forced to ask myself objectively if I am better. I don't know. I certainly feel better that I've moved on from such an emotionally tumultuous affair. HWMNBN makes random appearances in my life, like running into him at a bar with the newer model, a post for another day, who we'll call Ryan Dylan. I've seen him at parties, or out on the street once or twice, and all I feel for him is pity. Plus, his hairline is receding, and ladies, there is no better feeling than running into an ex the best you've ever been and him at his less-than-prime.