The Joy of Ex...

So, the other problem with the football tournament was that my ex went along.

It's going to start sounding as though I didn't enjoy my time over there. I did. I had sex and I drank beer. That is good by anyone's standards. There are just a few little niggles. Teeny tiny niggles. And one 5'4" niggle.

Let me caveat this entire by saying that I don't hate my ex. I very very rarely hate or dislike my exes. I don't think it is worth the while. And there are usually at least two very good reasons we went out in the first place: attractiveness, and getting on well with each other. Unless something nasty happened, the first doesn't change; and very usually the second doesn't change, we just realise one way or another that we are not meant to be together. Whether that is by getting annoyed at all the little foibles, or by ending up in blazing arguments every weekend, or by finding them sucking on someone else's penis in a nightclub toilet in Birmingham. Whatever the reason, there were good reasons we were going out. And I don't regret going out with anyone. Regret is never a good thing. You are wanting to change things which it is simply never going to be possible to change. It is pointless and ultimately frustrating. Concentrate on what you can change, and the positives of the past. Awesome - I think I have just gotten myself my first mantra.

No, my Ex is attractive in a way. And we got on well and had a good time whilst we were going out. But there are reasons for me being annoyed over the holiday.

So, we'll start with the list of irritations:

Physical appearance.
Yes, it's going to be done by headings. Perhaps even sub-headings.
Like I say, physically the Ex was attractive. Just in a very disproportionate way. Taken independently each part was proportionate: head, torso, legs, arms. Well, maybe not arms.
Arms
The arms just had actually no muscles. They were odd. they looked like they could be snapped really easily. Really skinny. Otherwise they were a perfect length for the torso.
Torso
The torso was pretty much perfect. Normal-sized, skinny waist and nice hairy chest. But normal-sized torso and 5'4" don't really add up, which is where the legs come in
Legs
Don't get me wrong - I like short people. I alway have. But short, proportionate people. Here all the shortness was in the legs. The torso would have been proportionate had the legs been a few inches longer. But the main disproportion was the head
Head
The head is big. Bigger even than mine and I am an entire foot taller (though I do acknowledge having a bit of a small head). But the head was a really big head which - when put on top of such a small body - made it look as though it could fall off at any moment. The face was attractive, nice teeth and eyes, but the hair was a bit fuzzy which only exaggerated further the larger head.

Attire
Ok, so I know I'm not exactly the best person to start criticising people's attire. Until I started at university - age 18 - I had no style whatsoever. Even then it took me a while to get into my stride. And my choices since then have not been without the exceptional mistake. We have obviously already seen some of my clothing choices in a previous post and there are a few notable lapses in judgement. But I have never NEVER worn cordoroy trousers. Or an ancient blazer. And it wasn't just me who commented on it. Now, I know my Ex hasn't got a phenomenal amount of money, but wearing your granddad's hand-me-downs is a little extreme. And believe me, with the Ex still living with his granddad, that's a very real possibility.

Behaviourisms
These are probably only things which normal people (even myself) do, but because of my Ex's diminutive size become exaggerated, I'm sure. That or that because he is a lot shorter than people, reaching becomes all that more of a stretch and whereas I would probably be able to slouch comfortably he has to be at full stretch. However there are many other problems. No, we'll not call them problems... quirks. I like quirks.
Generally
Everything is somewhat severe. Actions are definite. Arms, fingers, are always straight. There is nothing lucid, languid, lazy about any of the actions. They are there or they aren't. It just doesn't flow - it is constantly jerky.
Dancing
The dancing is jerky too, however very limited. Again, sitting in a glass house I probably shouldn't be throwing such criticisms around as my dance-moves are somewhat limited. And yes, again, the cute height issue comes into it - actions need to be slightly exaggerated and whilst for me moving my arms around a few inches is only a couple of degrees, for him to move his hands those same few inches it is actually a considerable rotation of the body. And yet I have dated (or at least danced with) people similarly short and the actions don't seem so extreme.
Facial expressions
Again, life lives itself by the extremes and there is never a mediocre expression. Any point of conversation is accompanied by raised or furrowed eyebrows, a broad grin or deep frown, or (the most annoying) the corners of the mouth are turned down with a piercing stare as though some response is demanded. And the facial expressions are accompanied by hand gestures. I have never know someone use so many hand gestures; or hand gestures which, bizarrely and despite the short arms, seem to extend so far away from the body. It's almost cartoon-like in its melodrama.
Interactions with others
These did annoy me when they were affected on me, I have to say. Fortunately they weren't this holiday, but they do look weird from afar. I'm talking about hugging. And it happens a lot. In fact, one of the things I found is that it happens all the time. ALL THE TIME. I couldn't get rid of my Ex at times. It was almost clawing. I was being pawwed at in the same was as a desperate dog would. And no sooner had I managed to wriggle out of a hug, somehow wipe the arms off from around me and wander over to speak to someone else, than he would be there back again. A number of my friends remarked on how like a limpet he was and how difficult he was to get away from. And it wasn't just a simple arm around the waist - everything was double armed. Both hands round the waist or - more usually and more annoyingly - both arms wrapped around the upper body - they would have been round the shoulders or neck but for the height. And because of the height it made it look even more unnatural, more desperate. And it did seem as though he thought that because we were going out, it was obligatory for him to be next to me, to join in any - every - conversation. Which brings me on to...
Talking
Yep, he was there for every conversation. Always had something to say. Not only that but he always had to be saying something. As someone who quite enjoys peace, quiet and my own thoughts for a lot of the time, the necessity for there to be babble; inane noise in the background; a constant reminder he was there - no, a constant demand for my undivided attention to reassure him that he was the most important person for that moment - drove me round the bend. Not being someone who is a master on the Franco-Prussian war I was not able to join in on those conversations; not being fully conversant with each and every single football player in all of the English divisions since the late 70s I was somewhat bewildered as to some of the jokes or anecdotes; on any random, often obscure or even boring topics, he had something to say. And when you were already in a conversation with someone else and got limpetted by the Ex, this was annoying not just for me but for whomever else I was talking to.
And the voice. Gosh the voice could get annoying. Not the pitch or tone because there is nothing anyone could do about that, but he speaks so slowly, so carefully, so precisely. Combine the voice with all the expressions and gestures into such a small body and it is so extreme so as to be positively comical. Which it actually was when he was shouting at football players on the pitch - watching him jump around, pointing so fiercely, shouting so deeply and aggitatedly and using phrases which had clearly been taken from the Football Book of Cliches but were peppered in with an ever-so-slightly incoherent timing. All of which brings me on to...

Why was he even there?
He wasn't there to play football. He made a very, very last minute decision to come. Yes, we had some spectators there, but they were all partners of players. He just seemed to come along ... er, for a bit of a jolly, on a whim. I know really why he was there - he wanted to be the partner of one of the players. And not me. He had been flirting online with a friend for quite some time, and because they both live a considerable distance apart, this would be one of the few chances they would get to meet up. And, of course, he got to show me that he was over me. The thing is, I didn't really care. I wasn't fussed that he was seeing my friend - best of luck to them. In fact, if anything, it was a very good thing because it made me feel less bad for dumping the Ex. He had moved on and suddenly I was not evil any more. But it was annoying that he limpetted my friend. A number of people said it. There is a time and a place for affection, and being out in public is not it. All of the other couples who went for the tournament were able to control themselves - a couple of affectionate moments during the day but otherwise saving everything for the hotel room; but no - the Ex was permanantly hanging around the neck of my friend like one of those novelty monkey puppets. I don't know whether it was one of those "needing to make Basil jealous" type of overt displays; or whether my Ex - being someone considerably less experienced with relationships (and particularly public relationships) - just didn't realise how annoying it was for everyone; or maybe that's the only way he has to demonstrate absolute undivided attention in the same way as the babbling. Who knows.

But like I say, I actually do like my Ex.