Ruminating on an ex is described as a "compelling" pastime, one that intrudes upon our daily lives—from workplace meetings to moments of solitude. We often view these past relationships through a distorted lens, projecting "beauty" and "happiness" onto the memory of a former partner. This obsession becomes a mental barrier, preventing us from engaging fully with our present reality.
The speaker proposes a bold, "counter-intuitive" approach to breaking this cycle: instead of resisting the urge to reunite, we should seriously entertain the possibility that we could "get them back." While this may seem "entirely implausible" given past silences or cold farewells, the exercise serves a crucial psychological function. By treating the return as a genuine possibility, we force ourselves to move past the safe, idealized fantasy and confront the "truly salient issue": Do we actually want them back?
When we believe a return is impossible, we indulge in "syrup-soaked" memories, cherry-picking the best moments—like "that trip to Athens" or "cosy nights in Marrakech." However, the speaker demands we shift our focus to the "cold light of dawn." We must perform a mental simulation of their return: them standing in the hallway with their bags, ready to move back in. When we move beyond the "hazily beatific" image and consider their actual character—their "habits," "ways of complaining," and the history of "betrayal"—the fantasy begins to crumble.
The human mind often acts as a flawed "reasoning machine," holding two "entirely contradictory truths" simultaneously: a belief in their perfection and the knowledge that they are "putrid." By forcing these truths to collide, we reach a sobering realization. If the ex were to return, they would be "radioactive." We would likely find ourselves wanting to "shout at them" or unable to "bear to touch them." The speaker asserts that we are essentially mourning a ghost—we miss the person they were before their "complexities and disappointments had come into view," not the person who exists today.
The resolution to this torment is "pedantic and clear-eyed detail." We are suffering because we miss a version of someone that no longer exists. By realistically imagining the friction, the "clumsiness," and the "shiftiness" of the actual person, we strip away the romanticized veneer. Ultimately, the best way to evict an ex from our minds is to realize that if they appeared at our door today, we would be the first to ask them to leave.