This is Only a Test

OK. Deep breath.
In a mere nine hours or so, I've got to face a demon.
Not that the person I will see is a demon, but seeing him may be tough.
Here's the story. Picture it-- Monday night, hanging out with the girls. I should have gone home to get some sleep or read or do laundry, but I was too busy admiring my friends' Warhol-inspired refrigerator art (for FHE we colored pictures of President Monson for Kindergarten Night, and it was amazing how many people put him in a pink suit). I basked in the delight of chatting it up with two of my besties (shout-out to Pam and Daniela!), and laughing as they commanded poor Jeremy to dance (which he did not do, despite their bullying). All in all, it was a typical Monday evening. Until terror struck.
We were discussing our plans for the weekend-- a regional young single adult conference-- when Pam (who is in charge) broke the news. She said at least 13 people from Las Cruces are coming. I asked if there was anyone I knew, thinking maybe she'd say Kimball, a boy I once saw in the temple. She didn't mention Kimball, but did say that my ex-boyfriend will be there. And then I couldn't breathe.
Yes, I know what you're thinking... "isn't that the one she posted about just a few days ago?" Why, yes it is. "And didn't their relationship end 19 months ago?" Yes. "She isn't over it yet?" Apparently not.
Talking about you-know-who is all very well and good in theory. I have no problem discussing him in an abstract, nostalgic way. But remember when I ran into him and his girlfriend at Papers! this January? On Monday I was ready to throw in the towel and make plans to leave the country for the weekend to avoid the YSA Conference. Poor Pam! She is the greatest friend ever, and she did do me a major service by letting me know in advance so I didn't faint at the dance tonight, but it probably didn't make her feel too good to see my deer-in-headlights face.
The good news is, I think I'm ok, and I can still participate in the activity. Pam and Daniela got a kick out of my written plan of action I read to them the next night, after shopping for cute clothes (because I sure as heckfire am not gonna show up to this shindig looking like a Tusker). After crying-- no, that doesn't begin to do it justice; more like making this weird, hiccuping and honking noise-- all the way home Monday night, I started thinking that maybe I could handle it.
I will spare you the details of the written plan, because they make me sound like an absolute nincompoop (I know this because Daniela found it particularly entertaining), but I'm just gonna go through with it. Trial by fire, right?
Also on tap for the weekend is getting to know Mr. Handsome without acting like a weirdo. Daniela gave me PLENTY of tips on that as well. "Do your hair like this." "Make sure you DON'T do that." I've got so much to remember, I'd better make another list. I just need to make sure that I don't get them mixed up, and end up batting my eyes at the ex, and running and hiding from Mr. Handsome. I may just need to dance by myself in a corner with my eyes closed and pretend like no one else is there. It kind of defeats the purpose of going to an activity where one of the prime aims is to meet people, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
Report to follow. Pray for victory, no carnage.