How to meet your Ex-Lover at the Coffee Shop after a 15-year Lapse

• Don’t cry. No one wants to see you cry again. You cried enough – a river, an ocean. Nowadays, the hostess seats you behind plants and screens in most of the restaurants in town. They remember. The relationship lasted only six months and although you thought he was your soul mate, he married someone else. With fake boobs. Real hair. Don’t judge him by judging her, or at least, not where anyone else can hear. DO NOT CALL EVERY FRIEND, GOING OVER EVERY LITTLE DETAIL UNTIL THEY STOP TALKING TO YOU FOR A YEAR LIKE BACK THEN.
• Don’t drink your coffee. Using both hands, put your coffee on another table. I know you met in this coffee shop but it’s for the best. If you try to drink your coffee, your hands will shake, spilling it down yourself. If you put it on your table, you’re sure to knock it over. Big embarrassment, big mistake. Save yourself the grief. There was grief enough in the relationship with all its messiness and financial consequences. YOU’VE JUST STOPPED JUMPING EVERY TIME THE DOOR OPENS, THINKING YOU’LL POSSIBLY GET A GLIMPSE OF HIM WITH ANY OF HIS GIRLFRIENDS OR HIS WIFE – ALL BLONDE, EXCEPT YOU, AND THIN, EXCEPT YOU. NO, YOU DON’T NEED TO SEE A CARDIOLOGIST.
• Don’t ignore him. That never worked when you were together. It won’t work now. Be civil and say hello. Everyone in the coffee shop is watching and this is your moment to shine (and possibly shake his and most people’s perception of you as a crazy psycho bitch). YOU ACTED BATSHIT CRAZY FOR SOME TIME – THE LAURA-ASHLEY-GIRLY PHASE FOLLOWED BY THE I’M-NOT-BATHING SHINDIG CULMINATING IN THE BURYING-A-SHOE RITUAL.
• Don’t flirt. He knows all your moves. YOU EVEN TURNED UP AT HIS ‘EST-IN-THE-21^ST-CENTURY’ CULT GRADUATION, ELBOWING A YOUNG WOMAN OUT OF THE WAY SO THE FIRST THING HE SAW UPON ENLIGHTENMENT WAS YOU, MORE NAKED THAN DRESSED HOLDING A WILTED DAISY. He’s moved on. You haven’t but that’s not his problem. And now you look like a cry-baby skank. You may not be able to avoid him but you can avoid the label of incompetent homewrecker!
• Don’t ask him if he’s ill or lost weight or heaven forbid, both. Embrace your delusions and chalk it up to him missing your burnt cheese toast. A staple of your time together. He’s just grown older. Like you. Don’t look in the mirror behind the barista. So not the time to do the fearless, personal inventory or book a facelift. DO NOT LOOK TOO CLOSELY AT HIS FACE – HE COULD ALWAYS GET AWAY WITH ANYTHING, TALK YOU INTO BELIEVING ANYTHING – WHEN YOU LOOKED AT HIS FACE.
• Don’t, please don’t, tell him about the shrine you dedicated to him, complete with a pair of his unwashed boxers and a crusty plate. Or how you haven’t cleaned his footprint off the wall since the crazy sex haze one Sunday afternoon fifteen summers ago. THE SUNDAY AFTERNOON WHEN IT FELT LIKE EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO WORK OUT. THEN THE SUCKER PUNCH A WEEK LATER WHEN THE WAITRESS TOLD YOU ABOUT THE LATE-NIGHT CANOODLING WITH THE BLONDE. He’ll think you haven’t had good sex since he left you, and hopefully, that’s not true. Remember, you sold that house and the footprint is someone else’s problem.
• Don’t touch your hair. Too late now to do anything with it and it will look like you’re flirting (see #4). He’s seen you through good and bad hair days. He didn’t break up with you because of your hair. He broke up with you because he wanted to sleep with someone else. And he did as soon as you were out of the picture. You know this because you snuck over to his house one night after the break-up, hid in the hydrangeas, and eavesdropped for three hours. THEN DIDN’T LEAVE YOUR HOUSE FOR A MONTH. Don’t make an appointment with your hairdresser. Now is not the time to experiment with that asymmetrical cut that will be hell to grow out.
• Don’t engage him in any personal conversation. Especially do not tell him about reading the book, ‘Women who love too much’ or its companion, ‘Men who can’t love.’ Do not tell him about the decade of therapy and how you’re only now able to see men with black labs without needing medication. Do not show him your medication. CHECK THE EXPIRATION DATE AND IF IT’S STILL VALID, TAKE A XANAX. Ask about his dog who has most likely died by now. Really dig deep, commiserate so he feels as shitty as you do. Hide your glee.
• Don’t tell him that you need closure. That’s what all the therapy was for – if either of you HAD BEEN THE LEAST BIT ADULT, you wouldn’t be on a payment plan with your therapist AND YOU WOULD HAVE AVOIDED WEEKS OF SCREAMING, RESULTING IN THAT PAINFUL SURGERY FOR LARYNGEAL POLYPS. Do make an appointment with your new therapist. Tell her you’re driving to her office right now and will sit in her waiting room until she can see you.
• Don’t rush out for alcohol. No one likes a sloppy drunk and you’ve worn out your friends with this particular coping skill. Anyway, it’s 8:15 on a Tuesday morning. Update your Uber app and wait until 5 pm. Then go somewhere dark where you can cry into your chardonnay. Buy a good first glass then switch to the house wine. Do not drink and text. Do not peruse his Facebook, Instagram, or LinkedIn accounts. STALKING IS FROWNED UPON – THE NICE POLICEMAN TOLD YOU SO.

YOU LOVED HIM. HE MOVED ON. YOU WERE DEVASTATED. GET ON WITH IT. Read ‘Relationships for Dummies.’ Get fitted for a new diaphragm. Get a professional wax job. Start fresh or fresher down there. Stock up on condoms. Put clean sheets on the bed and towels in the bathroom. Put on your big girl panties and sign up for a dating app. GO TO A DIFFERENT GODDAMN COFFEE SHOP.