At first I was sure that it wasn't her. She hated country music and at one point commented that she wasn't sure if she could like someone that thought that country music was quality material because they obviously lacked judgment. I laughed because I thought she was joking. She might have been, but she didn't even crack a smile.

She bought me a Shiner Bock beer. At first I thought she was a waitress or something and I started to say that I didn't order one. When I saw her standing there, the awkwardness was immediate. Not necessarily because I hadn't talked to her in a couple months or that I threatened a restraining order if she showed up at my apartment, but because I knew that she hated country music and "everything it stands for" and seeing her at the Firehouse, Houston's premier venue for country artists, was something of a jolt to the system.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I came to watch The Great Divide. My ex-boyfriend said they're really good," she explained as she watched the opening act play. "He was right."

"This isn't The Great Divide. This is No Justice. They're the opening act."

"Oh, well they're really good."

"Except that you hate anything resembling country music."

"I like (Steve Earle's) Copperhead Road. Remember?"

"Right. Look, I'm trying to watch the show and I'd rather not talk through it."

To my surprise, she actually didn't and I was able to enjoy the remaining three songs in relative peace. When they got off the stage, I hoped the TGD would get on lickity-split.

"So, that I'm here... does that surprise you?" she asked.

I was so tired of that question. She seemed to ask it over and over again when we were together and during our weekly conversations after it ended. I almost said 'not really' out of instinct, but for once she did surprise me. "Yeah."

"Would it surprise you if I told you that I've been coming here for two weeks to see you?"

"Yeah, it would, because you haven't."

"Come again?"

"Last Friday night, 1100 Springs played and I can say with some certainty that you weren't there. It wasn't a crowded show. I would have noticed."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I was."

"Whatever," I replied.

"So are you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me why I've been coming to the Firehouse to see you?"

"Oh, well I figured that it was because you found a whole new appreciation for Texas country and Americana music. You mean I was wrong?!"

"Oh, please. It's mysogynist, inbred, neoconfederate bullshit. I came to see you," she informed me. I started walking towards the door. "Where are you going?"

"Outside."

"Why?"

"You'll... you'll just have to excuse me. The shock that you came here to see me is just sooo much that I need a breath of fresh air."

"Alex, come back here."

"Nope, I'm going outside."

"It's raining."

"You mean you're not going to follow me? Sweet!"

"Alex, I'm serious. I'm going to get sick if I go out there."

"Then don't come out."

She did anyway. "So aren't you the least bit curious why I've been coming here?"

"Not really. I told you I wouldn't take your phone calls, reply to your IMs, and that if you stopped by my apartment I'd call the police. I guess you found another way to slip through the cracks."

"Can we go in? The rain is really bothering me."

"Go in if you want. I like the rain."

"Fine. Well look, I came here to tell you that I'm over you."

I started laughing. "You've been stalking me for two weeks just so you can let me know that you're over me?"

"Not stalking. Like you said, I couldn't call you or see you, so this was the only way I could track you down."

"You tell me that you're over me," I get out between chuckles.

"Well what did you want me to do?"

"Who cares what I want. You're over me, remember?" I answered. She didn't reply. "I figured that if you were over me, you wouldn't feel the need to track me down and tell me."

"Well I've been over you for a while. Really I have been since you dumped me."

"Aaaaaaah," I replied with a mock-yell. "This is why I stopped talking to you. All you do is talk around in circles, never actually going anywhere except blaming me for all your problems and telling me that I never meant a thing to you in regular alternation."

"Huh?"

"If you've been over me since we broke up, then why won't you get on with your life?"

"I have."

"As evidenced by the fact that you're stalking me. Unless... wait... have you met someone?" I asked. My fingers crossed in between our faces.

"I don't need anyone."

"Whatever! What do you want from me? Just tell me what you want from me that you can take with you and leave me be? If you've been over me, then why are you here? Before you said that you were here to tell me that you're over me."

"Right. I came to tell you. Not because I am."

"Because you're not."

"God, you're arrogant. Is it so impossible to believe that I've gotten on with my life?"

"While you're standing here, getting sick in the rain, in a venue that plays music that loathe, and have been allegedly coming to for the past two weeks?"

"You're twisting my words."

"Not your words, sweetheart, your actions! Look, if you wanted to tell me that you're over me, great. You gonna go now?"

"Well that's not why I'm here."

"Aaaaaahhhhhh! Well, while you have arguments in your head about why you're here, I'm going to go over there to keep an eye on the band so I can go back inside when they started."

"I'm here to ask you if you've gotten over me."

"I, uhh... heh... what?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Only because it makes no sense! When have I ever given the impression that I haven't moved on?"

"Well, you're still single, aren't you?"

"No comment."

"It's been what, six months? You still haven't found anyone? Sounds awfully curious to me."

"This is in contrast to that girl I met in Austin, when you suspected that I was only interested in her because I wasn't over here... and the girl in Dallas. So whether I date or not, it's because of you... and I'm the arrogant one here?"

"You can't deny that it was a bit soon after our breakup that you wanted to date again."

"I... ehhhh... I... mmmmmh... errrr... I.... it was soon."

"See?"

"Only because you never meant much of anything to me," I told her. There wasn't much else I could really say.

"I think I should go now."

"Yeah."