Dear Digital Diary

Dear Digital Diary,

can’t a girl just have one minute of peace?

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day. Friday the thirteenth. I’m on my phone, scrolling through TikTok (a habit I promised to leave in 2025), when I get a notification.

It’s not a text from my boyfriend.
Not an email about my recent job interview.
Not a meme from my best friend.

It’s a Snapchat.

Two chats, actually. From a guy I was certain I’d left in 2024.

Woah there, buddy. It was seven in the morning. I hadn’t even had coffee yet. And this is what I’m hit with?

I was a sophomore in college when we began our on-again off-again storyline. A strictly talking situationship, if you will. I was nineteen. He was stationed at the military base in my college town. I’m liberal-leaning, and he’s…well…he’s in the military. He gave me attention and entertainment. I probably did the same for him.

After a brief no-contact blip (strategically executed on my part), we agreed to one last coffee date the day before I flew home for the summer and he moved to Colorado. He was late, apparently pulled over by cops. I was anxious, needing to move out of my apartment later that day.

The date happened. It was fine. A moment.

I flew to Boston. Then to Italy to study in Florence for two weeks.
I flew home.

In late August, I went on a first date with my now boyfriend.

And that was that.

So Bowser and I haven’t spoken since.

Which is why the 7 a.m. (or 5 a.m., if we’re going by his Mountain Standard Time) messages felt so abrupt. So unnecessary. So…predictable.

Because here’s the thing about bad exes: they reappear the second you’ve built something steady. A new job. A new city. A new partner. A new version of yourself. Somehow, they sense it. And they decide now is the perfect time to show up out of nowhere and try to reenter your life.

But the funny thing is that I feel like I’ve seen this all before.

Between my ancient Wii, crappy computer games, and friends’ Nintendo Switches, I’ve had several opportunities to play Mario Kart. I usually pick Daisy. I put a sick hang glider on my kart. I gear up.

Now, I’ll admit, I’m not very good.

I drive slow. Careful. Focused on not bumping into walls. I usually end up second-to-last while whoever I’m playing with speeds ahead into first place. I know that’s not the point of a race. But I care more about staying steady than getting there fastest.

That said, I’m actually pretty good at maneuvering around obstacles. Banana peels? Avoided. Edges of the track? Hugged carefully. I may not win, but I don’t spin out easily.

And then, out of nowhere, a blue shell.

I was driving fine. I was staying in my lane. And suddenly: impact. Everything explodes around me. I stall. Everyone passes me.

That random blue shell? It’s the ex from forever ago who reappears the second your life starts running smoothly.

The track is life.
You’re the driver.
The shell is the disruption.

And the most annoying part? You didn’t even do anything to deserve it. You were just driving.

But here’s what Mario Kart also teaches you: you don’t stay stalled forever. Lakitu drops you back on the track. You keep going. You might lose a place or two, but the race isn’t over.

Bad exes love to think they’re the final boss.

Most of the time, they’re just a poorly timed blue shell.