The Ex Factor

A few weeks ago I sent out links to my wedding album design and photo montages created by our incredible wedding photographer.  I didn't think twice as I scrolled through my AOL address book inserting email addresses left, right, and center.  Usually I would think that such an act would be incredibly self centered to send out a mass email that essentially screams:  look how happy I am and how gorgeous I am!!!  At least this is the caddy side of me that would be commenting about any other post-bride's mass email of photos, "Humph, she's just trying to rub it in and relive her day.  Move on, honey!  Your time has come and gone!" 

However, I really wanted to share the excellence of my photographer and my cousin, make up artist to the stars.  When he was finished with me I looked like me only kicked up a notch Emeril style.  Bam! 

At any rate a week or so passed and I was checking my email.  I had received several emails from relatives asking about how I was doing in Indy and some from friends who were unable to attend.  There was one that stuck out like a sore thumb.  Cue stage right to enter the ex factor.

"Hello! Congratulations!  I knew that you were engaged, but I didn't know when you were actually getting married.  You look so beautiful in your photos and your dress looks amazing.  When did you get married?  Te-Mika and I married on October 22nd...."

Oh. My. God.   There I was sipping my Sunday java with my husband sitting across the table from me.  I think my grin on my face was beginning to make me resemble the Cheshire Cat.  J noticed.

"What's up?"  He casually asked noticing the extreme affect shift.

How does one explain that you accidentally emailed the guy to ripped out your heart, stomped on it, threw it in the microwave on high to let it wilt like bad roses, put it back in your chest and whispered sweet nothings?  The Ex.  The one you learned more than your share of karmic life lessons with and swore you earned nothing but good romantic ju ju for decades to come.  The one you would casually spit on the ground before announcing his name in public.  The-one-who-shall-not-be-named!

"Uhh."  I so eloquently began and then tried to sound casual.  "Remember when I sent out the email with links to our album last week?  I guess I thought my address book was more current than it was.  I just got an email back from insert bastard's name here." 

J's eyebrow lifted ever so slightly and you could tell he was trying to play it cool too.

"He apparently got married as well and sent me links to his wedding website.  Her name is Te-Mika."   Te-Mika?  What kind of a name is Te-Mika?  I began to envision a wedding in the jungle room of Disneyland.  This is especially relevant as this Ex and I had had several conversations about how names can label you.  Like for instants, on resumes long before you even meet the person which was an important issue for social justice and racism.   He was shocked to learn that names like Charone and Sheree were common in Utah, but they belonged to white people.  This ex had a history of always dating people with white sounding names.

"Huh.  Really?"  J responded.  By now I was so extremely curious, I was linking to their website.

"Orange?  Orange bridesmaids dresses???"  I exclaimed embracing the inner caddy female.  "Roses.  Peach roses."  I couldn't help but announce the details I found so anti-my taste.  I realized how ugly I was sounding so I added, "She does look beautiful."  And she did.

"So, I realize this is a rhetorical question:  are you going to be forwarding this link to the girls, the ya ya's?"  J asked referring to my friends who saw me through this miserable mess of a break up.

"Absolutely in a heartbeat."