I was home for Christmas that year, on 30-day leave from the Army between the end of an 18-month tour in Germany, and the beginning of what would be nearly 18 months in Vietnam. A few days after I got home, I got a surprise call from my most recent "ex." I hadn't spoken to her for two years, not since she'd done a "Dear John" on me when I was still in Army training, 700 miles away from her and home.
It hadn't been a nice dumping. She'd made it clear that she'd found a guy who was really cool, and much more her "type" than I was. Lucky girl her, because she was really, really happy with this other guy, and she was kinda sorry that it didn't work out between us, but I really shouldn't call her again, etc., etc. She told me who the guy was, and I knew him: a neighborhood hotshot and typical-- Hell, stereotypical-- "bad boy" I used to see around occasionally. She was really lucky to land that one. All the cool girls were after him.
****
Ah well, bygones, she said, and she'd really like to see me again. So we agreed to meet at an old-favorite restaurant, just like the good old days...except that she spent most of the date telling me about her horrible few months with Joe Cool, how he'd used her and abused her, humped her and dumped her, robbed her and ran-- all the usual tales. All of them. At length.
Pretty well ruined my meal. Believe it. Damned expensive restaurant, too, for a guy on Army pay.
And for dessert: she told me that she had spent some time being angry with me for letting her go so easily-- that if I'd just fought a little to get her back, she could have avoided all that bad-boy pain. But that was all in the past, she said, and she was willing to give me another chance. We could pick things up again just where we'd left them. She wasn't holding any grudges.
I thought that was big of her.