#TheEXFiles

[emotionalghostown]

The 007

This one is about Jake—a rich kid with hazel eyes and a magnetic pull I couldn’t resist. I met him through my mentee at a house party in the fanciest part of the city, the kind of party I’d only seen in movies. His apartment was sleek and spacious, practically begging for trouble, filled with people whose effortless wealth radiated from the walls.

His friends were textbook bourgeois. I’d been around snobby rich kids before, thanks to my private school scholarship back home, but this was a whole different level. These people weren’t just rich—they were powerful. They knew it, and they made sure everyone else did, too. The men wore their privilege like it was a family heirloom, and the women around them were all perfectly slim, polished, like they’d been cut from some expensive mold. I felt like Ginny Humphrey when her dad married Lily: what in the Gossip Girl was I doing here?

But thank the lord for my Scorpio rising. I had piercing black eyes and a razor-sharp wit to match. My private school education had taught me how to blend in, how to be a chameleon in any social setting. So, I played the part, fighting my way into their world with a smoothness I’d perfected over the years. I could laugh at their jokes, volley back their sarcastic comments, and make them think I belonged. But the whole time, I was thinking, This is a game, and I’m damn good at it.

Jake, though, was infuriatingly aloof. He didn’t flirt, didn’t even give me a second glance in public like he had an image to uphold. Still, I could feel the tension when we walked to the party, a silent pull that made my blood boil. By the time we got there, I was ready for something to happen.

Fueled by the frustration (and half a bottle of Monbazillac), I found myself wandering to the kitchen to grab water. And then I felt him behind me, close enough that I could sense his presence before I turned around. He was standing there, looking at me with those impossibly sexy hazel eyes. I started to walk away, but he leaned in and asked if he could kiss me. I laughed, partly from nerves, but he leaned in closer, his voice all smooth and quiet, and asked, “Don’t you want to?”

Oh, I wanted to. And that was all it took. We made out right there, and soon we found our way to his room, where we had the kind of soul-shattering sex that makes you believe in cosmic connections. That night turned into a week, and then into months. Every time he was in town, we would meet up, and the same thing would happen. It was primal, physical, just pure raw lust. I didn’t know anything about his life, and he didn’t know much about mine. We rarely spoke, but when we did, it was as if words only got in the way. It was freeing, easy, and insanely pleasurable.

But you can feel the but coming, can’t you?

One summer night, I was out with a friend at a bar when my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and saw Jake’s name. Now, you have to understand—he never called. We’d been doing this thing for over a year, and all we ever did was text. So when his name showed up, I knew something was off. I picked up, and right away, I could tell he sounded drowsy and a little paranoid. I asked him what was wrong, and he laughed, saying, “Damn, how’d you know?” He asked if he could come meet me, and, feeling curious, I told him to come by the bar.

When he arrived, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. I immediately knew something was wrong, and he looked me dead in the eyes, saying, “You know me as Jake, that is my real name but that’s not the full story.” I raised an eyebrow and joked, “What are you, CIA or something?” He smirked, but this time his face was dead serious. “Yeah, actually, good job. And tonight, I think I blew my cover.”

I laughed, thinking he was joking, but his face was dead serious. He told me he actually was CIA and that he’d messed up on an assignment that night. He looked me in the eyes, and I realized he wasn’t kidding. He said he needed me to help him clear his head, that I was detached enough from him and smart enough, and he just wanted to be in my arms tonight.

So there I was, walking him home, feeling like I’d fallen into some bizarre, high-stakes spy thriller. He started telling me details I’ll never repeat because, frankly, I’d like to avoid jail time. When we got to his apartment, we kept the lights off and tiptoed to his room. And as I turned to get ready for bed, I saw him in the moonlight. He was checking a gun, making sure it was loaded before he slid into bed beside me. He held onto me, practically trembling, and I stroked his hair, trying to calm him down.

I stayed awake, terrified out of my mind, listening to his breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep. Guns aren’t exactly common here in Europe unless you’re law enforcement or someone in deep, dark places, so the whole situation felt surreal, like a scene from a smut novel gone terribly wrong. I lay there in the dark, trying to make sense of everything, but I couldn’t shake the fear.

And that was the last time I ever saw him. He vanished just as mysteriously as he’d appeared, leaving me with a night of secrets and a story no one would believe.

[jikingare]

#NewBook, new #PatioLights, new #Wine… #OldMemories… #TheExFiles #BestFriend https://www.instagram.com/p/CNJjqdwhZ3s/?igshid=aud09exyv7z5

[fatgirlsguidetodating]

Blog: Bad date tale 4. The Ex Files.

Setting: A cocktail bar in Swanston Street.

Who: Mark, a late 30’s primary school teacher.

How I met him: Online, RSVP. My second online date after the disaster that was Wayne.

What happened: Mark and I meet on the steps out the front of Flinders Street. “Under the clocks” for any Melburnians reading this. We had been chatting about 6 weeks before this meeting. He looked a little different than his photos- a little older, a little grayer, not quite as athletic but was still a handsome man and hell I’m the last person to harp on about looks and photos- but I spot him easily enough and he sees me and makes a beeline for me. He gives me a kiss, I assume it’s aimed for the cheek but instead he kisses me on the lips which takes me back a little as I’m not used to that informality in a greeting by someone I don’t know but it doesn’t bother me. It’s windy, but not super cold for a November, and we decide to walk up the road rather than jump on a tram which would be pretty busy this time of night on a Tuesday. As we walk we talk. It’s easy to talk to him. Our talk is playful, as our online chats have always been banter, and thus it makes me instantly comfortable, like I’ve known him for longer than I have. At the cocktail bar he pulls my seat out for me (20 points to Gryffindor) and then we sit down. We order: him a red wine, me an espresso martini.

“My ex loved those.” He says.

“Cool. She had good taste then.” I reply.

“HAD.” He corrects me with a grin. “She broke up with me after all.”

“Had then.” I agree.

I don’t know it right then but this will be the theme of our date.

We already know a lot about one another so most of our conversation is joking around. I know his fave footy team, drink, food, place to visit, dream holiday, dream job, dream place to live etc. In some respects this is good because it, like I said earlier, makes me feel like I’ve known him forever. But when a silence looms here and there I can’t think of much to ask to bring the chatting back. I notice occasionally something I say or do brings a sort of frown to his face or he looks like he’s a million miles away (turns out it’s more like 28 k’s).

We get another drink- this time I go for a mojito. He has another wine. “My ex hated mojito’s.” He tells me.

“Oh-Kay.” I say, not really sure how I’m meant to respond to this.

And suddenly it’s like the floodgates have opened!

We get something to eat, to share; a plate of wedges with sour cream and chilli sauce. (His ex was obsessed with chilli I find out.) When I inadvertently get some chilli sauce in the sour cream he is pissed off. “Can’t you keep them separate?” He complains.

I don’t think this is a major crime but it turns out that even though he likes both sauces he doesn’t like them being mixed in their little bowls. Just on his wedges and in his stomach.

“My ex always did that, she’s such a fucking messy eater. I kept threatening to buy her a bib.” He tells me.

Sigh.

For the next 42 minutes (yes I counted) before I could make a good excuse to leave I learnt more about what his ex liked and didn’t like than I did about him. It was clear from the way he spoke about her he wasn’t still in love with her (like bad date tale #3 Wayne), but he clearly wasn’t totally over the breakup either.

I went to the bathroom where I wondered how in movies or tv shows they manage to escape out a window or through a back entrance when clearly that was not possible. Plus I couldn’t bring myself to do something like that anyway. Instead I resorted to ringing my friend and getting her to ring me in 10 minutes with an emergency.

And she does. Though I have a crazy hard time keeping a straight face at her Emergancy: “I need you to take me to the ER, I got a dildo stuck up my butt and I can’t turn it off or get it out,” is her excuse.

Though I tell him she’s hurt her leg.

“Can’t someone else take her?” He asks.

I put on a disappointed face, give a rueful shrug and say, “nope, I wish but no. Still that’s what best friends are for right?” (I’m still awaiting my Oscar from this performance btw!) It’s only later I wonder why he didn’t think about the fact that I’m not exactly in the position to drive.

We pay- halves- and he walks me to the tram stop. “You kicking on?” I ask.

“Nah, going to go pick up some things from my exes.” He says.

Shocker. (His ex lives in Chelsea- just over 28 Ks from the city.)

We say goodbye and part ways.

Outcome: He texts me a few days later and says he’s had a great time and wants to see me again. I reply that I had a nice time but I’m pretty busy the next few weeks. I don’t hear from him again. But I do see on Facebook a month and a bit later he’s in a relationship with a lady from India. (Not the ex!) Nice enough guy, we get along perfect, but I couldn’t deal with ghosts of girlfriends past.

[melissanovels]

Shame @theexfiles for what she has made me read on this glorious wednesday afternoon.

[wildcatflo]

I'm loving this song and the playlist listening to today. ❤ #music #applemusic #playlist #theExFiles (at Vancouver, British Columbia)

[librarynoire]

#theexfiles #victoriachristophermurray #book #books #bookblogger #christianbooks #readers #read #reading #blackgirlsread #blackauthors #bookshelf #booksofinstagram #readersofinstagram #librarybooks #booklove #booksarelife #bookworm https://www.instagram.com/p/BpUSlnKnwze/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=10nbd6fmbkzaj

[authorlatoniabutler]

New Release coming tomorrow!!7/20... #rerelease #urbanfiction #theexfiles

[nyenke]

theexfiles replied to your post “i was at the cattery today and this lil cat was like, meowing In Need...”

It was worth it

13/10 would touch again 

[theexfile-blog]

You stabbed me a thousand times and then you acted as if you were the one that was bleeding #theexfiles #feels #exquotes #quoteoftheday #brokenheart #ithurts #breakupquotes #igstories

[emotionalghostown]

The awakening

He wasn’t just some random stranger; he was a piece of my past. Let’s call him Alex. Alex knew me before life twisted me into someone unrecognizable. He drifted back into my world just as I was pulling myself out of the wreckage that blue-eyed disaster had left behind—the one I’d let break me twice. I was healing, scarred and shattered, struggling to find myself again. And then, like a storm rolling in from nowhere, there he was. Alex.

We started with texts. They were small, tentative at first, just friends reconnecting. But somehow, he managed to reach into my soul faster with each message, reminding me of who I used to be. He could call me out in a way that cut through the mess, showing me parts of myself I’d forgotten. It was like he’d always known I was more than the broken girl my last relationship had left behind. He saw me—even when I couldn’t.

Of course, I fell for him. He revived parts of me I thought I’d lost. And just when he started to show me what it felt like to be valued, to be cared for, he got colder, like he was already slipping away. I felt the storm brewing inside me all over again—the familiar feelings of insecurity, abandonment, confusion.

So I returned to this chaotic, handwritten letter I’d written to myself—a way to make sense of the pain, the rage, the heartbreak. And yet, Alex lingered like a shadow, a reminder that I’d tasted something real, something that felt like love. I spiraled, caught between feeling abandoned and missing him, torn between anger and sadness. He’d promised me the world, and then, as if it were nothing, he was gone, too.

He finally texted me back after days of silence. I’d been there waiting, checking my phone obsessively, feeling the anger and hurt bubble up inside me with each unanswered message, each day that passed. And then he was there—an image, an audio clip, a simple response. I knew, deep down, things were unraveling. He’d talked about engagement, a future, just days before the silence. I wanted to believe him, but my gut knew this was the end.

I loved him, though, with a reckless, desperate kind of love. I dreamed of him, replayed his words, felt the ache of his absence like a phantom limb. I wanted to wrap myself around him, to say all the things I’d held back out of fear of being broken again. But reality had other plans. His life was moving in a different direction, and all I had left were fragments—conversations that once made my heart race but now felt hollow.

For a while, I held on, still trying to text, to call, hoping there was something left. But his replies grew fewer, shorter, until there was nothing at all. I told myself I didn’t need him, but the memories clung to me. I remembered the way he’d make me laugh, how he cried at sad movies, how his eyes lit up when he talked about the things he loved. I remembered the nights he’d hold his phone, whispering words of love that might’ve been lies, but filled me with a warmth I hadn’t felt in years.

And then, he left for good. He faded like a character in a story I’d stopped writing. I waited, hoping he’d return, but somewhere along the way, I realized he was gone. And just like that, the hope I clung to turned into anger—not at him, but at myself. I’d let another piece of me slip away, trusting someone again, only to be left shattered.

Alex was a moment of clarity, a spark in the darkness. Now he’s a memory, a part of my story that taught me more about love than I’d known, even if I wasn’t ready to receive it. I healed, I moved on, but a piece of me will always be his, no matter how many times I rewrite the ending.

[rootin-tootin-morgan]

20 Questions Tag!

Thank you to @leavingbutgoingnowhere for tagging me! I never get tagged in stuff so I’m super excited to do this!

Name: Brogan

Nicknames: Progan, and Borgan is the closest to a nickname I guess. It was a typo someone made that just stuck

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Height: 5′4

Orientation: Het

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Favorite Fruit: omg Mango is the king of all fruits literally the best one. Apart from that I really like kiwis, dates and persimmons.

Favorite Season: Autumn just a little more than spring

Favorite Book: Watership down

Favorite Flower: Sunflowers! followed closely by chrysanthemums

Favorite Scent: hmmm probably lavender or the smell of freshly baked bread. I also really like the smell of like soil and plants just after its rained (if thats not too weird)

Favorite Color: pastel shades of anything really

Favorite Animal: primates! although I really do love all animals

Coffee, Tea, or Cocoa: I can’t live without coffee

Sleep Hours: usually somewhere around midnight through till 8

Cat or Dog: both, although if I had to pick one as a pet I’d choose a dog

Favorite Fictional Character: oh god this is impossible to answer, honestly it depends on my current obsession

Dream Trip: to somewhere in Asia, like South Korea or Japan, or to Africa

When Did I Make This Blog: yikes err years ago Probably like around 2013 maybe later

Number of Followers: 242

Tag some people I enjoy following/want to get to know better: @iwa-do-me-hajime @stydiatheslayers @theexfiles @hino-of-the-dawn @tatteredgod

Those are just a few people, feel free anyone to do this (or ignore it if you dont lol) I dont mind!

[imstunning]

Blog Idea

ppl send personal stories complaining about their ex's.....blog name?? theexfiles

[jikingare]

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A post shared by Jike Paramo (@jikingare)

Sometimes what may seem random ends up #ChangingLives, #ThankYou for being there, in your very personal way... I honestly have no idea where I would be without you... #TrueBlue #IfICouldMeltYourHeart #RebelHearts #TheExFile #GhostTown

[dancinglashatumbai]

@theexfiles ah yeah I’m guessing. I’ve loved the last three seasons so I do want to watch it eventually, but maybe I should wait, or at least not binge watch? maybe you have a suggestion or warning?

[celeboftea]

New Post has been published on Getmybuzzup - http://getmybuzzup.com/keeping-kardashians-ex-files/ - Keeping Up with the Kardashians - "The Ex Files" Season 13 Episode 7 #KUWTK #KeepingUpWithTheKardashians [Tv] - http://getmybuzzup.com/?p=750096 - #KeepingUpWithTheKardashians, #RealityTelevision, #TelevisionShow, #TheExFiles, #Tv, #Video Please Share

[dolceaversace-blog]

#dolceaversace🎩✌🙏😎🕴😱💪👍👸👯😂 #dolceaversace #killab #KillaB #KillaB-TheExFiles #houseoflove #rap #video #hiphop #music #red #gold #fashion #fashionblogger #love = #amour #diamonddollfaceamour #diamond #Fitness #entrepreneur #boss #MOB #mafia #amyadams @amyadams_daily