The problem is, I guess I can't live in a hole.

"Sorry I'm late, I was on the phone with [fuckwit's mother]."

I'm fairly assured that I'm over my breakup with fuckwit. I'm not bitter anymore, I do wish him health and happiness (okay, the latter only in his worklife, there is still that vengeful part of me that hopes he realises that I'm the best thing he ever had and he was stupid in giving it/me up, even though I don't want him anymore - this is pure pride speaking). I probably could even be politely civil if I ever ran into him. But it was more or less a clean break, and seeing that we don't have any mutual friends, there is no reason I'd ever have to hear about him again.

But it's not that easy, is it.

Back last summer, I finally decided that I was going to give medical school one more semester and then if it didn't get any better, I was going to leave. But then - what was I going to do? Since I was 17, I had known my life's trajectory, and then *I* was going to be the one who was going to pull the rug out from under my feet and leave me career-less. I had no plans. This scared me. I always have plans. I am a Virgo, after all.

I decided that perhaps psychology would be interesting, even though I had never taken a psych course as an undergrad (wave hello to the happy humanities student who hated survey courses and classes that had separate sections) I liked playing and interacting with little kids but I had absolutely no desire to teach them. Rather, I liked studying them. And I always enjoyed school - school was something I always excelled in.

So psychology it was. A master's degree, perhaps, because I didn't have the credentials for a doctorate - and hey, I was not going to go rushing headlong into something new without making sure that I enjoyed it.

And in stepped fuckwit's mother. Coincidentally, she was a professor in developmental psychology. What she did was exactly what I imagined I'd enjoy. She got to work with little kids! And she had a family life! And she got to travel and give talks! And she still had summer breaks!

I talked to her for hours. She was incredibly helpful. She put me in touch with professors at various different universities. I talked to all of them too, to find out what they enjoyed about their jobs, why they chose what they chose to do, what I would need to do. (Note: I have never talked to more people in one field who unanimously enjoyed their jobs. This was amazing!) One of the people I talked to happened to be her best friend at this illustrious university. It was her best friend who decided that I should apply here. So apply I did. And here I am now.

Fuckwit's mother was overjoyed, believe me. I was following in her footsteps - after I got in, I found out that she had gotten her master's here also. You want more coincidental items? I look out the window of my apartment, and I can see where she lived when she went here some 20-plus years ago. It is quite literally within spitting distance.

It'd have been great if fuckwit and I stayed together. But things being what they are, that didn't happen.

And had I been in any other field, I'd sadly have no contact with his parents ever again. He and his family would be archived in my memory - part of my past, not my present. We're back to the very desired clean break.

But wait. Did I mention that fuckwit's mother's best friend is now my advisor? Yes, that was intentional - she conducts a number of research projects which fascinate me. Those projects? On a good number of them, fuckwit's mother is co-collaborator. When I pull up papers related to childcare and development, fuckwit's mother's name shows up more often than not.

And that quote that started this post? That was my advisor, late to a meeting, because she was on the phone with fuckwit's mother.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. They went off to Korea earlier this year to co-present a paper. They work together on the same projects. They're best friends. After all, it was through fuckwit's mother that I met the woman who is now my advisor.

But to hear his mother's name again was a small shock to the system.

And so it seems, I'll never be completely free of his family. Not that I terribly mind, I loved his parents tons. After we broke up, the thought that I'd never see his parents again was just as depressing as the breakup itself. Although, I suppose now that doesn't seem like it'll be the case. If I continue in this field - and especially if I pursue this particular line of research - I will inevitably run into his mother.

Which really isn't such a bad thing. But so badly did I want a nice clean break, it would have made everything so much easier.