The past is calling. In the form of an early morning call. Almost disrespectfully early, which in my terms, means before 8:00am. No one should be calling me before 8am, unless it’s family, my best friend, a potential employer, my current employer, or of course, my S.O. (significant other). This call came from none of the above.

The past called this morning. Waking me up to the singsong tone of an unknown caller, a sound I rarely hear. It’s an upbeat song, a jazzy selection that informs me that I haven’t saved the caller’s number; a simple forewarning without having to look at my phone.

The past called, jarring me from a dreamless sleep, surpassing my subconscious and alerting my brain signals, telling my eyes to open and my arm to reach out and silence this noisy thing that’s interrupted a well deserved slumber. It was my past on the other line, calling, trying to reach me.

This part of my past is complicated. This part of my past began as a light flirtation, then settled into something that resembled friendship. This part of my past grew from a college crush that was never satisfied, a longing and want that couldn’t be quelled, and a never ending cycle of exasperation. This part of my past comes in the form of an attractive guy who was just my type. He has inexplicably kept my interest, effortlessly gained my attention, and stayed in the revolving door of male companions, associates who couldn’t reach the next level. This part of my past was a weak spot. WAS. Past tense.

My past is calling and leaving voicemails on Monday morning. My past wants to catch up, probably in a current state of aloneness that I used to willingly fill, back when I played more games and cared less about other people’s feelings. My past was good at reeling me in, whether it be an invitation to a party, an empty promise for dinner, or a simple update of my relationship status.

Through 2 long term relationships, this part of my past waited in the wings, anticipating the inevitable moment when I’d tire of dinner and a movie and return to a life full of carefree fun. This part of my past disappeared when he had a girlfriend, only to breathe new life into my world when he returned to his comfort zone of switching women like his wardrobe.

My past is calling and asking how I am, which will lead to a conversation that is full of innuendos and things unsaid. We’ve talked about so much but refused to discuss “us” or how there’s never exactly been an “us” and why. This part of my past could never be taken seriously, and leaves a messy trail of broken hearts and shallow women wherever he goes. This part of my past considers himself my friend, only he never lent the ear I needed or the comfort I seeked when my soul was weary and my heart was breaking. This part of my past is only good for having fun; the kind of fun a single girl relishes, as an alternative to real connection and partnership.

My past is calling, even though he knows I’m in a relationship, deeply in love with my best friend. The past never respected my relationships, never cared much for commitment. And in my past, neither did I, so it’s no wonder the past is STILL calling.

But that’s my past. Past tense, behind me, accounted for.

My past is calling, but for once, I won’t answer. I swipe to delete the call, the voicemail and the texts without hesitation. And knowing my past, he won’t call back, for my silence is answer enough. My past is calling and I ignored it.

Good for me.

Erinn