All [the] exes live in Texas

I had an interesting conversation with an ex recently, and by interesting I mean my blood was boiling and I wanted to throw plates. But before I extrapolate, I will back up and elaborate.

I moved - okay, fled - to Texas three years ago after a horrendous breakup. My flight tendencies have a tendency to outweigh my fight and I wanted to build a new life in a new place where no one knew my name. So, I found Austin and immediately fell in love. Again. I won't drown you with the millions of reasons why I love this city, and Texas, but it is safe to assume my heart now belongs to the Lonestar State. Alas, I digress...

After my early-life-crisis-slash-relocation-adventure, the ex in question - we will call him Houston - made a series of career moves across the country. Most recently, he landed in Houston (hence the name) and has been inhabiting the lower quadrant of Texas for about a year and a half. We have spoken, claimed a truce - it is all ancient history. I have no problem sharing MY state with a person from the past so long as he understands the unspoken rules of exes in Texas. Which, judging by the most recent conversation, he does not.

Now we are at the present. Earlier this week, Houston reached out to me to see if I knew of anything "fun happening in Austin" for his birthday. Which, I infer, means that he wants to spend his birthday in MY city. While I admit my flattery - he sought me out as a source for all things cool and exciting in Capitol City (and why wouldn't he, journalists have the coolest jobs and we have to know where said cool is. Because its our job) - I am also fuming. I am insulted, angry, and deeply confused.

During my first two years in Austin, Houston and I dabbled in long distance relations. While in this limbo, I frequently invited him to visit my city. I begged, I bartered, I plead, and I was always met with the same answer, "I hate Austin".  (How is that even possible? No one hates Austin.) So you can understand my confusion over his newly found desire to venture into my part of the state - after I so generously gave him the southern region! It isn't a secret that the food, music, and entertainment is better in Austin. I suppose I can see why he would want to abandon his city for the weekend to play in mine. I suppose I can see his logic, but why now? What sudden come-to-Jesus revelation led him to open his eyes and see the awesome that is Austin?

Now, because of my overactive imagination and slightly irrational nature, I find this problem hinting at an even larger issue: how do I keep him out? If we were still in Arizona, I could write Arpaio and request that a fence separate central Texas from any exes trying to illegally smuggle themselves in. Or I could build a moat. And to be clear, this is not an issue of unresolved baggage. This is an issue of territory and I found this fire hydrant first.

The bottom line is this: after the demise of a relationship, how do we keep the former players in their respective space? It is difficult to compartmentalize confusion and love is a rampant catalyst of mixed emotions and grey areas. Even after the trains have jumped tracks and moved on, the unspoken rule of space cannot be ignored - that is how trains crash.

Love is messy and seems to have an uncanny ability to resurface, unexpectedly, without an invitation. In this scenario, I have moved on. He has moved on. I just ask that he keep his life a few hundred miles from mine. I was here first. I planted my flag, claimed my space, and now this part of the state belongs to me. This town isn't big enough for the both of us.

So, Houston, here is your answer: stay in your own city.