We're fascinated by exes. We know it's not going to make us feel any better about ourselves (or any more secure in the relationship) but we can't help making the comparisons: were they smarter, prettier, funnier, better in bed? Are they able to converse knowledgeably yet unpretentiously about the 19th-century novel or the films of Powell and Pressburger? Do they know all the lyrics to Hotel California? Do they look better in a bikini, goddammit?[ article via the morning news]
Exes are a tricky matter. On one hand, you want to be grown up and unaffected and say that you don’t really care about what happened before because it doesn’t have anything to do with you. On another hand, of course you want to know whether you fare better [hah, I’m smarter than she is!] and you want to believe that you are a drastic improvement.
I think everyone goes through that. It’s a natural curiousity. You get involved with someone, then you break up, and that someone hooks up with somebody else and you hope that it’s the last you heard of that uhm, person. Then comes the very odd situation of reading about your current involvement in another another girl’s novel [or blog, or whatever]. Now that can be a trying experience. Call it fiction, call it a creative re-imagining of things past. You’ve call it quits, and your ex has the right what to do with his/her version of things. It could turn up in a poem, a story, a blog entry. But trust me, you wouldn’t want to read about how a little quirk of yours is suddenly a non-endearing trait, nay--psychopathic even.
Should I be grateful then, that it hasn’t happened to me? At least not just yet. Then again, I can always say I’ve changed my mind. This is still my blog after all.