When Exes Become Contesting Cavemen

Here in the modern world, it’s nice to maintain healthy, adult relationships with people we’ve slept with.

Whether it’s a colleague you had a not-so-secret-but-not-terminal fling with, or an ex who became a friend, or someone you once drunkenly intercoursed with at your friend Sally’s birthday party in Bangkok.

Because we’re all sensible, forward thinking people. Yes?

Well, not always. Recently I introduced two men at a party. They were both friends of mine, and both people I’d slept with at different junctures in the past. All three of us were aware of that. I didn’t think it mattered; it certainly didn’t matter to me, but suddenly I found myself witness to a tense greeting which should’ve been narrated by David Attenborough.

Why this strange shuffling and sizing up that goes on when I introduce two men who I’ve both slept with? Is it necessary to make wary, sideways eye contact while shaking hands firmly but not too firmly, maintaining hand grip for long enough but not too long.

And more to the point, why the hell do I, a modern woman who generally avoids sleeping with cavemen, need to witness this nonsense?

Too brief a handshake, I gather, is standoffish. Too lengthy a handshake would be tantamount to an orgy. That’s what Attenborough was saying in my head while I stood with my drink wondering what to do next.

Should I talk about the economic crisis? Should I mention something they have in common besides my breasts, like five-a-side football? Should I break the ice by offering a chocolate bar to the one who could sketch the most accurate drawing of my vagina?

I was tempted to fling my glass across the room, to call attention to the grotesque thing that was happening in my presence. The tense stand-off had nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with my body, and who had done what to it, and how, and who knows what about who did what and how they did it and how well they did it. And with what sort of vegetable.

In the end I talked about the economic crisis. They joined in like a pair of rabid FT readers, and soon all was calm in the jungle. But I remain pissed off.

Contact the author here: miriam@morningquickie.com