Jess Nicol
How to Tell If You Have the Face of My Ex You notice me one day (or, maybe, on multiple days), standing across the street from you, and when we lock eyes, I quickly look away, dart down the sidewalk, and cower behind a streetlamp or tree. Once I’ve surreptitiously peeked at you for long enough, squinted my glasses into a more magnifying prescription, and determined you are, in fact, not my ex, I will saunter from behind the tree and casually scroll through my phone, while also periodically lifting my head to grin out at the world around me, like the relaxed individual I am. My blank, name-only LinkedIn account pops up on the list of who’s viewing your page, many, many times before I realize I am logged in. I showed your headshot to everyone at work. And some friends. And a few relatives at my cousin Kay’s wedding over the weekend because everyone kept asking about my ex—“how are you managing since the, uh, split?; must be tough, you being here, you sitting here, alone, all alone, without X, especially since everyone loved X so much, like loved X; a shame. A damned shame. Your Aunt Hettie and I really thought X was The One, you know” and so forth—and after the completely-normal-and-not-excessive 52 | The Anti-Languorous Project
