Encountering Ex-boyfriend After Hemorrhoid Surgery

Encountering your ex-boyfriend right after hemorrhoid surgery...

What do you do?

1

So, I ran into my ex-boyfriend again. And boy, was it awkward.

Picture this: I was lying on my hospital bed, casually scrolling on my phone, when I heard the nurse say, "Alright, pants down, Mr. Walsh will check your stitches."

Obediently, I pulled my pants down, glanced up, and froze.

My ex-boyfriend, Nate Walsh, stood there in a white lab coat and latex gloves, looking down at... my backside.

Instantly, my whole body clenched.

2

Nate was my first love. We'd been together through high school and college – well, until junior year, anyway.

If our relationship was beautiful, our breakup was as ugly as it could get.

We didn't break up because of any cheating or third parties. The problem was that Nate was just too perfect.

He went to a top school, aced his classes, came from a great family, and, to top it all off, was insanely good-looking.

By junior year, he'd been given a spot in a foreign exchange program.

Meanwhile, I was struggling at a third-rate university, barely scraping by without failing classes.

Everyone around me urged me to let him go so he wouldn't have to "carry my dead weight."

Our high school teachers said Nate was destined for greatness, not someone like me.

His mom even looked at me with teary eyes, saying I was holding Nate back, practically begging me to "let him go," as though I were some evil temptress stealing his essence. But hey, if anyone was crying for mercy in bed, it was always me, not him.

My resolve wavered under all the pressure, and my deep-seated insecurities started surfacing.

I knew I didn't deserve Nate. So, I chose to end it.

The day we broke up, Nate waited outside my dorm all night. He looked so earnest standing there that even the dorm supervisor didn't have the heart to tell him to leave. As he finally left, he got into a car accident and fractured his leg. He called from the hospital, saying he'd forgive me if I just came to see him.

I didn't go. In fact, I did worse. I borrowed my roommate's boyfriend and took a "heart sign" selfie with him, which I then sent to Nate.

"Colder than the ice queen," my roommate said.

A month later, Nate left as an exchange student, and I didn't see him again for the next six years.

3

I'd pictured so many ways I might run into Nate again.

Maybe he'd be holding hands with a girlfriend, maybe we'd meet at a high school reunion, or maybe we'd just bump into each other at a restaurant.

But in every scenario, I was either glamorously made-up or sporting a soft, natural look.

Either way, I was going to look good.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine we'd meet this way.

Here I was, hair a mess, face pale, and wearing zero makeup.

And worse – I'd just had hemorrhoid surgery.

4

The real blow came after Nate left the room.

After his departure, I turned to the nurse who'd been following his every move with starry eyes. "Um, isn't post-op care usually handled by the surgeon?" I asked, forcing a smile. "Why was it...?"

The nurse gave me a gleeful look like I'd just won the lottery. "Mr. Walsh was your surgeon!"

The shock hit me so hard that my posterior practically throbbed.

This was not the reunion I'd envisioned.

"No way," I muttered. "I looked up the doctors in your proctology department beforehand, and his name wasn't on the list."

I mean, who would willingly choose their ex-boyfriend for hemorrhoid surgery?

My issue? Maybe. But I was not stupid!

The nurse giggled, practically drooling with envy. "Mr. Walsh is an ophthalmologist! He just stepped in yesterday to cover for Dr. Barnett. You're so lucky!"

I was... speechless.

Part of me wanted to scream, but I just buried my face in my hands.

I'd once seen a video of hemorrhoid surgery and remembered it was not a pretty sight.

I closed my eyes. "Um... did I... do anything, uh, embarrassing during surgery?"

"Nothing unusual."

Well, that was one small comfort.

5

For the next five days, Nate came by to check on me, and every time, I wanted to disappear under the sheets.

Yet he remained calm, professional, giving me advice on my diet like I was just any other patient.

It got me thinking: maybe... maybe he didn't recognize me after all.

I mean, who would recognize their once-gorgeous ex as a worn-out patient lying face down on a hospital bed?

6

Once I convinced myself he hadn't recognized me, my spirits lifted considerably.

On my discharge day, I slowly made my way to the exit.

I wanted to leave faster, but... well, some things hadn't fully healed.

Just as I reached the door, Nate walked towards me. I quickly lowered my head and saw him hand me a form. "Please fill this out."

I forced my voice deeper to avoid recognition, throwing in a bit of a rough accent just for good measure. "Whatcha got there, Dr. Walsh?"

Nate paused for a second. "It's a patient feedback form."

"Ah..."

I took the form and shuffled back to my room, grabbing a pen from the table.

The form was straightforward enough – name, age, phone number, and address. I scribbled each detail, making sure my handwriting was as messy as possible, then handed it back to him.

Then...

"Norene, did you change your name?"

I looked up at Nate, feeling suddenly dizzy.

In the name slot, I'd used a random alias I'd come up with on the spot: Dina Harvey.

You know, that friendly, easygoing kind of girl-next-door name every not-so-girly girl secretly dreams of trying out at least once.

7

I had no idea how to respond to Nate. So I took a deep breath and doubled down on my act, gazing up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and nodded.

Nate smirked, "Norene Harvey, look at your chart on the bedpost."

I turned and saw it. There, in bold letters, was my name: Norene Harvey.

Oh. My. God.

This was not just a minor mishap. I had just face-planted into an aircraft carrier of a blunder.

"Norene," he said, amused, "you still lie without missing a beat."

I let out a dry laugh. "Thanks for noticing."

After a moment, Nate took out his phone and said, "Your number."

Obediently, I rattled it off.

Then he added, "Now add me."

Reluctantly, I pulled out my phone...

Nate nodded with satisfaction. "Now, send me your address for follow-up purposes."

I laughed bitterly as I typed in my address and hit send. "You're telling me hemorrhoid surgeons' performance reviews depend on personal check-ups now?"

He didn't answer. Once my message went through, he paused, then said, "Norene."

"Yeah?"

Nate fixed me with a sly smile, "Has anyone ever told you? You look just as clueless as before."

I clenched my fists. This guy...

8

I shuffled to the hospital entrance and took out my phone to call a ride.

Half a year ago, I'd left my job at the art magazine to go freelance, now working as an independent illustrator.

My old friends had mostly drifted away, and my only close friend from school, Kacie Howe, was living back home.

Most of my social life consisted of chatting in group chats with other illustrators from around the country, people I rarely saw in person.

My life here in the city was solo and low-key. I rented a small studio apartment, drawing for clients, and was mostly content with it.

Well, except when I was sick.

But then again, I had just had a hemorrhoid procedure... so maybe a little solitude wasn't the worst thing.

Otherwise, what was I expecting? A whole entourage by my side... to witness this?

Just then, a white car pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, and Nate looked out at me.

"Get in," he said.

I took a step back, radiating icy indifference. There was no way.

He inched the car forward, got out, and opened the passenger door. "Get in."

I shuffled further back.

With a deadpan look, he said, "You want to get in yourself, or do I have to make you?"

I remained silent.

Sighing, I slid into the passenger seat.

This was my first time sitting after the hemorrhoid surgery, and the pain made me grimace.

Nate glanced my way, a faint hint of amusement in his voice, "Serves you right."

The heck?

9

When we reached my place, Nate pulled into a temporary parking spot and insisted on following me upstairs.

"No need, Dr. Walsh. I can manage," I said firmly, hoping to dissuade him.

He cast me a skeptical look. "I just want to make sure the address on your form wasn't a lie."

"I'm a very honest person."

"Oh really?" He smirked. "You mean like... 'Dina'?"

I gave an exasperated sigh and started walking, head down.

After a short elevator ride, I stopped in front of my door and turned to him. "Happy? You can go now."

Nate, however, didn't budge. "Not until I see you open the door. For all I know, this could be another one of your stories."

This was the same guy who used to say he'd believe me if I told him the sky was green.

Oh, how things had changed.

Reluctantly, I took out my keys and unlocked the door. "There. Satisfied?"

Without hesitation, Nate stepped inside. "Shoes off or do you have shoe covers?"

This was getting ridiculous.

Did he forget he was my ex?

I had a thousand complaints in my head, but I said, "Well, uh, shoe covers. I don't have extra slippers."

A cocky grin spread across his face as he leaned against the doorframe, looking down at me. "Oh? Still single, then?"

10

Right now, Nate looked like a smug peacock.

He might have the face of a god, but his expression was pure arrogance, as if to say, "Ha! You're still single, while I've moved on 100 times over since you dumped me!"

But I wouldn't be outdone.

I gave him an icy smile. "Single, yes, but happy! I'm free to enjoy the company of 200 different men if I want to."

Why 200? Because it was more than 100, and because I could.

Nate straightened up, his smile fading slightly. "Two hundred? What are you trying to do, assemble the Avengers?"

"Not exactly," I shot back. "I meant no strings attached – the kind where I don't have to answer to anyone, get it? My experience is vast, Nate, so don't act smug with me!"

As I brushed past him, he leaned in closer, just enough that every inch between us felt magnified.

Damn, after all these years, his skin was still flawless!

And then... I felt heat rising in my face and quickly looked away.

"Nate, what are you doing? Let me tell you, 200 guys are enough for me; I'm not looking for a 201st. I'm a loyal person, after all. No extras allowed!"

Nate's voice was casual as he replied, "Oh, really? Because, Norene, I'd say you don't exactly look like someone with... 'experience.'"

Then, he reached up and gently flicked my earlobe. "Look at this – already red."

A shiver shot through me.

Nate, the untouchable high-achiever, really knew how to be a tease.