It sucks when your friend/partner/SO says: “we’re going on a diet,” even when he’s right. But, it’s better when he says “we’re” doing it.

My weight is between 10-15 pounds higher than I’d like. I am still a 4 and apparently everyone thinks I look great, but this is my whole vanity weight thing. Apparently it’s also his.

Oh, and who is he . . .

Funny thing about that . . .

And funnier yet if we rewind to Friday night.

On Friday night, I went out for an elegant ladies’ evening of champagne and cheese plates with PRX, the ex-girlfriend of the guy I was dating Dec-March, who also dated LP and FM.  (Yeah, process that.)  So, PRX, who has become my friend, and I are in her car heading to this elegant place when I am telling her about this funny conversation I had with BFD when I get an email from him.

It’s an email that essentially says he knows this is the wrong way to tell me, but he’s met someone and they’re in a relationship and it’s serious.

Though I’d not been dating BFD for a long, long time, the news that your guy has permanently moved on derailed our evening.  Wine, cocktails, dancing with FM, hitting on inappropriate men . . . we did lots of very silly things.

BFD had emailed me a couple of times and called me, surprised I didn’t hate him.  I didn’t.  I don’t.

I sent him to voicemail, responded back that we’re family and I am happy for him. And I left it at that.

On Tuesday, he came back from a weekend with the new woman saying “it’s not going to work out.”  Okay, fine.

Then around 5, he called and asked me to dinner.  He gave me 10 whole minutes to get ready.

Dinner was actually a date.  We went to one of our favorite restaurants, we had our usual conversations, and everything was actually kinda perfect.

Except that “we’re going on a diet.”

Strangeness abounds.

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