It just happened. You know, you’re going about your day. You just finished your daily “Sex and the City” marathon (Ugh, Miranda) and you think you’ll head to campus to attend class for the first time in, well, a while. You feel great. You have a flask of wine hidden in your bag and nothing could go wrong.
Except, you’re wrong.
There you are, walking through the quad, when you feel a pull. You know someone is looking at you, and you hope it’s the shirtless pieces of man meat playing some sort of sporting game in the grass. You do a quick tongue swipe over your teeth to make sure they’re clear of lettuce from the salad you had for lunch (okay, whatever, it was a bagel) and flash a dazzling smile in the direction of the magnetic pull.
And, because you are a woman of luck, it just so happens that the source of the magnetic pull is none other than your ex. It could be your ex-boyfriend, an ex-“we sort of dated but then he stopped calling but I was going to stop first so I don’t even care,” an ex-FWB, or any combination of the three. Either way, it’s bad. You regret trying to turn your education around by going into the war zone that is a college campus. There are a few foolproof solutions to get away from this awkward situation and seem like the cool, controlled goddess that you are.
This is my personal favorite. He walks by, and you make eye contact (as your skin undergoes a variety of unattractive colors and temperatures) while you have a whole monologue of things to say to him. You probably start with something like, “Why don’t you love me anymore?” and end with a sting of profanities that you reserved for “The Bachelor” finale. As you do some vocal exercises, you realize that you are using the tote he gave you, the jacket he bought you, and the necklace he gave you when he promised his eternal devotion to you. You obviously can’t bitch him out while sporting the literal baggage of the relationship. He would think you still care. And you don’t. Obviously. This is where you grab all of your belongings and power walk (ass waddling and all) away from the situation.
Ugh, so you see your ex. Whatever. You’re so over it you don’t even know for sure if it was him. Did he always have blonde hair? You decide to stall and act like you’re on your phone to give him time to get away, because you’re a nice lady. After some light to medium Facebook stalking, you start walking. You feel good again–so what if you made eye contact? People make eye contact ALL the time. It’s totally not a big deal. As you’re convincing yourself of this, you realize that you recognize someone in front of you. Like, right in front of you. Naturally. You both are walking in the same direction. You realize you are officially a real stalker, as opposed to just a social media one. But doing this makes you think real-life stalking is so much more interesting than social media stalking! You get to see him trip on a crack and look around to see if anyone saw (we all saw). You notice just how insecure he looks wearing a backpack (NO ONE pulls the straps all the way up, duh). And, best of all, you get to follow him across campus and peek through the window while he visits his new girlfriend at work. What a rush.
Bitch Him Out
This strategy is for the bold ladies who like causing drama (so, basically, all of us). After he dares looking you in the eye, the hidden (okay, maybe not so hidden) bitch in you knows it’s time to give him a piece of your mind. You calmly approach him and do the casual “How are you? What’s new? You’re an asshole who deserves nothing good in life, and by the way I faked a lot of orgasms” thing. He’ll most likely respect you for being strong, and from then on will be insecure about his performance. Okay, he might not respect you but who needs respect from an ex who wears his backpack way too high up on his back? NO ONE.
Eat Or Drink Your Feelings
This route is for the nice girls (grow some lady balls already). You see him. You’re polite and let him happily walk all over you. He smiles and tells you the tales of how awesome his life is since he dumped you on your ass, and you just take it. You do the “I’m so happy for you” dance for a few minutes before he leaves you (he’s good at that). As soon as he walks away, you run to the nearest Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, or tequila bottle and consume calories upon calories to uh–well, I actually don’t know why we do this, but it works.
Nothing says you’re a “strong, independent woman who don’t need no man,” like bursting into tears in front of him. On the bright side, you will literally never see him again because boys are allergic to tears and he will avoid you like the plague. Works like a charm.