Why did the chicken cross the road? Because the hen told him not to.

The pountchline of the joke, this week, is there to pose the question: what is left when it's all over? 

One of my closest friends is someone I split up with 7 years ago, how is this even possible at my age?.... We've spent countless hours since, talking about our new relationships, there was even a failed engagement in the menu of things to talk about.Some days it's as simple as an ice cream and a walk in the park...Other times it's as heavy as the snow outside while we're sitting inside drinking tea at 11 pm days before Christmas talking about depression and life-goals. It's what you make it to be.  

Do you not find it absurd, then, to give up a friendship potentially so good just because of past physical closeness? It is an odd oxymoron, and you can't spell oxymoron without "moron"...

A former partner put in my mouth the first chunk of dark chocolate with orange and spices, a taste as intense as his character- a bite of this same chocolate while I write these lines brings into the air the touch of his skin.A song...I have to make the effort not to close my eyes and open them in a room, 4 years ago, listening to this same song, next to someone who is now on a different continent.The question forming in the eyes of my first lover while hopefully reading this, wondering where is the acknowledgement of what the two of us had. The smell of hyacinth in my room right now is intoxicating, rich, full and it reminds me of this someone "purple". So here it is- this acknowledgement that long after you've split up with someone, inevitably tastes, smells, sounds will remind you of them.

But memory is partial and selective. And this is the crucial point. Sure, some people just tend to remember the good and some tend to remember the bad, and it is a matter of choice as well as variance of personalities. Me, I remember the good. I insist on walking the extra mile to keep my ex-es in my life, and surprising for the lazy bastard I am, I enjoy walking that extra mile. Once having decided to accept you in my life, romantically or as a friend, you are likely to be welcome to stay there. In a way, it is almost a utilitarian approach- you've spent energy in getting yourself acquainted with a whole new world of a whole new person, so to throw away this knowledge, effort and time seems inefficient.

Whatever it is that pumps that black luquid through the veins of my clinical-about-love body, skipped a beat when I picked up the Skype incoming call from my high-school boyfriend: to hear his voice, coming transatlantically, virtually and for the first time in two years was quite the experience. There was no hope or agenda in the 3 hours we spent talking online, to get back together or to even meet, I am sure he will agree. Just to hear how the other is doing, listen and share. With the 3 years that had passed, we'd found some new topics to laugh about, to add to the old ones. Despite its futility, this call was more comforting than anything i'd experienced in a while. In fact, talking to ex-es has that effect: the comfort of familiarity which is safe by default- you know their flaws, they know yours, there are no unpleasant surprises, just the same old voice that voluntarily or not, you associate with hearing the words "i love you" over and over again. And yes, the words "you're full of shit, you arrogant bitch", too.

So, just because there is "ex" in "sex", is that a reason enough to put the "ex" in the X-files when the "sex" has ex-pired?