“Ladies and gents, lovers and haters, sinners and saints,” I croon into the microphone, “it’s that time of the week again. Thursday, just twenty-four hours away from the end of the work week, when you can stay under the covers sleeping in, or stay under the covers doing something else. You’ve got Mr. XO and tonight’s theme is Ex-Communication, and no I don’t mean getting ousted by the Church, which is definitely a topic for another show.”

“Tonight, we’re going to reflect on our exes. Before the groans set in, let me assure you that this will be an equal opportunity call-in night, because we’ve all been there in some way, shape, or form. I want to hear about the times you’ve tried to get in touch with an ex, or the times an ex tried to get in touch with you. Was it a reunion that ended in a happily ever after, or perhaps a restraining order? So call in dear listeners and tell me all about your ones that got away, your bullets dodged, your one a.m. drunk dials, your facebook disasters, and your happily ever afters the second time around.”

I told Donna what the theme of the show was tonight, and she was tactful enough not to pry. Of course, one wouldn’t have to be a relationship counselor to put two and two together and realize that there was trouble brewing with Prynne and me.

As for the callers, it runs the spectrum, as predicted. The one thing I can count on with Donna is that she does know how to mix it up when it comes to callers.

“…so I’m standing there right next to my husband, surrounded by everyone we went to high school with, and he’s grabbed the microphone from Penny, the former class president, and he’s drunkenly proclaiming that we should have never broken up after high school. I mean, he was the one that wanted to end it so he could go off to college and, quote, leave his options open, a.k.a. screw as many girls as possible. He was so drunk onstage, he slipped and fell on the beer he’d spilled. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.”

“…we’d been friends all through school and when he moved back to town ten years later it was like he’d never left. So…he wasn’t exactly an ex, but here’s the thing, he finally broke down one night and confessed that he’d always had a thing for me. I can’t believe I wasted all that time not telling him from the start how I felt. I just thought he was way out of my league and we worked so well as friends, which as it turns out is the best of both worlds. I can’t believe I’m actually marrying my best friend this August!”

“…I’m not normally one of those guys who calls a girl crazy, but really? Fish guts poured all over the engine of my car, after etching I Hate You into the sides. She must have been stalking me for a while because she picked the perfect time, when I was on vacation for a week. Can you imagine the smell when I got back? There was nothing that could be done to get it out. I always thought Fatal Attraction was unrealistic with that boiled bunny scene but…damn, talk about life imitating art.”

“…after my wife’s funeral we just started talking again. I remembered how sweet she always was, how she was always the first to get my jokes, which even I admit are perfectly bad. I loved my wife Carol more than life itself, but she would have been the first to want me to find someone when she was gone, and Helen is absolutely the best thing that could have come into my life. I know it sounds morbid, both of us being widowed and whatnot, but at our age death is a fact of life. You have to live while you can. I’ll tell all you young folks out there, strike while the iron is hot. Life is too short not to find someone you can laugh with, talk with, wake up with, do all those wonderful things with. Someone who makes you happy, and then just…be with them.”

Even Donna is tearing up on this one.

“Wow John, thanks for that. Absolutely inspiring. It’s always good when we can end this show on a high. And thanks to everyone else calling in with their cautionary tales and happily ever afters.

“On that note, I’m ending the calls a bit early tonight, to commandeer a segment of time for personal use, something I rarely do. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and ladies and gents, you have one desperate man hosting the show tonight. The title of this show was not by chance. There’s a certain ex, of a sort, of mine out there who is hopefully listening tonight.

“I won’t say too much since that’s what landed me here in the doghouse in the first place. But I will say this, I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but they’ve been some of the best weeks that I can remember having in a long time. This past week alone has made me realize how dull life is without you. You are that someone that I enjoy talking to, laughing with, sharing my dinner with, teasing, and…well, that someone who makes me happy. That someone that I want to just…be with.

“So to my own personal Jane out there, let’s try again. Bare it all so there are no more secrets. If you’re game, I’ll be sitting in the bar of the place we first met, this Saturday at eight o’clock. Come join me for a drink…and possibly more.”

I pause for dramatic effect, letting the audience do with that what they will. Hopefully, one person in particular is seriously considering my offer.

“With that, dear listeners, I bid you goodbye. This is Mr. XO signing off. Hugs and Kisses.”

After the show Donna comes out of the booth to join me, sitting on the edge of my desk as usual.

“So, trouble in paradise I’m guessing?”

“What gave it away?” I reply leaning back to rest the back of my head on my interlaced fingers.

“That sappy plea?”

“Was it too sappy?” I ask, darting my gaze to her with concern.

She laughs and punches me lightly in the gut. “No, it was perfect. Hell, even I’d consider divorcing Persia and meeting you at that bar. Especially with that voice of yours.”

I give her a dismissive smirk. “Well, I may have to take you up on that since I might be sitting there alone.”

“You really think she won’t take you up on it?”

I shrug, trying to replay this Saturday in my head as I’ve already done a thousand times. In some versions, I don’t come off too poorly. In others, I’m a despicable cad. The mind is sometimes a fickle thing when it comes to memories.

I pull forward and hop out of my seat. “I guess we’ll find out this Saturday.”

“Well, again, good luck.”

“Hopefully, I won’t need it.”