Only seconds after I heard The Ex's engine grumble to a start outside The Graduate's window, he slipped back into bed. "She wants to know why I'm not her friend anymore," he said and laughed. "I told her that today was a perfect example. She showed up at my place and demanded to be let in at 5 am while you're in my bed--that's exactly why I don't want to be friends with her."

I had just one question: "Did you get your key back?"

He hadn't. The Ex refused to relinquish her one remaining connection to The Graduate. "She said that giving my key back meant she wasn't my friend anymore--that she wasn't a part of my life," he said. "She wouldn't do it."

I slipped my feet out of bed, hit the carpet and grasped for the clothes strewn about his bedroom floor. I told him I wasn't angry--and it was true. It wasn't his fault. I just knew that, no matter how sweetly he cuddled me, sleep wouldn't come easy. And I just couldn't shake the notion that, key or not, this girl wasn't going to disappear.

But do our exes ever really leave? His was showing up on his doorstep. Mine lives 1,000 miles away, but he's here nonetheless.

When it comes to newborn relationships, we're never sitting at table for two. Our exes tag along with us. There will always be forgotten photos tucked in boxes or saved on our hard drives. Then there's our past pop culture history: the songs, movies and television shows our exes stamped as "ours."

When my ex found out I'd introduced The Graduate to "Freaks and Geeks," it was as if I'd kicked his puppy. "That was our show," he said. We had once cuddled up in his van and watched the series in its brilliant entirety. The mere thought of me sharing it with a new boy stung--badly. I simply explained that, in the post-breakup life, there would be some overlap.

But getting over it has no predictable pacing. I've fallen for someone new, and I'm ready to move on. The same goes for The Graduate. The thing is, our exes may not be on the same schedule. The Graduate's ex has a death grip on a key that she sees as her last tie to the home--and more importantly, the connection--they shared.

Meanwhile, I've dropped daily phone calls with my ex down to weeklies--if that much. My ex says he gets it, but it hurts. I won't feel guilty about it, at least, not anymore. Because there's one big break-up truth: When you end a relationship, it's a choice. You're essentially penning your name on the dotted line and signing away your rights to the heart of your significant-other-turned-ex. You're agreeing to the possibility that S/he will find someone new to call his own.

We can't hit the delete button on our exes, and I wouldn't want to. But for now, I think I'll push pause on my ex drama to enjoy the spic-and-span sweetness of a relationship that's still in its infancy.