![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleLest ye think I've been skimping on the perversity lately, allow me to dissuade you.
In the spirit of freakish, car-wreck nostalgia, I googled an ex-pseudo-boyfriend. Apparently, he has a review website now, and it has a big old picture of him. As I haven't laid eyes on him, in, er, twelve years, it was a bit of a thonk between the eyes. I'd be snarky and say he hasn't aged well, except that it's an unforgiving angle and a flash-- not to mention, well, there's a hell of a lot more of me now than there was twelve years ago, so I'm not the cute thing I was back then, either.
He's got a wedding ring, and mentions his father-in-law, so I'm going to assume he's still married to the vindictive bitch for whom he tossed me aside like a used doughnut wrapper after second-stringing me along for months with tiny crumbs of suggestive attention, and one Jaegermeister-fueled confession of more-than-like. I wouldn't believe it then, but he must have told his presumed now-wife all about me. I remember she sat next to me in a meeting once and nonchalantly flipped open her day planner to show off her carefully, and frequently, penned-in dinners with him. I remember how she'd be sure to use in front of me the pet name I'd had for him, sweetly tripping it off her tongue like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. At the time, I was naively sure it was all coincidence. It wasn't until much later I smacked myself in the head and wised up. I'm fairly sure she made him show her all the letters I'd written him, and every time I read about Willoughby's acid-evil wife and her epistolary viciousness in "Sense & Sensibility," I think of her.
In other words, they were well-suited.
I never thought I'd get over him. I wrote bad poetry for him, and cried myself sick oh, those many sub-tropical nights. I still shake my head when I hear songs he used to play, and ponder why I was so willing to sell myself so cheaply. That which does not kill me makes me stronger, yes. But I do wish it more quickly made me smarter.
In the spirit of freakish, car-wreck nostalgia, I googled an ex-pseudo-boyfriend. Apparently, he has a review website now, and it has a big old picture of him. As I haven't laid eyes on him, in, er, twelve years, it was a bit of a thonk between the eyes. I'd be snarky and say he hasn't aged well, except that it's an unforgiving angle and a flash-- not to mention, well, there's a hell of a lot more of me now than there was twelve years ago, so I'm not the cute thing I was back then, either.
He's got a wedding ring, and mentions his father-in-law, so I'm going to assume he's still married to the vindictive bitch for whom he tossed me aside like a used doughnut wrapper after second-stringing me along for months with tiny crumbs of suggestive attention, and one Jaegermeister-fueled confession of more-than-like. I wouldn't believe it then, but he must have told his presumed now-wife all about me. I remember she sat next to me in a meeting once and nonchalantly flipped open her day planner to show off her carefully, and frequently, penned-in dinners with him. I remember how she'd be sure to use in front of me the pet name I'd had for him, sweetly tripping it off her tongue like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. At the time, I was naively sure it was all coincidence. It wasn't until much later I smacked myself in the head and wised up. I'm fairly sure she made him show her all the letters I'd written him, and every time I read about Willoughby's acid-evil wife and her epistolary viciousness in "Sense & Sensibility," I think of her.
In other words, they were well-suited.
I never thought I'd get over him. I wrote bad poetry for him, and cried myself sick oh, those many sub-tropical nights. I still shake my head when I hear songs he used to play, and ponder why I was so willing to sell myself so cheaply. That which does not kill me makes me stronger, yes. But I do wish it more quickly made me smarter.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
have hammer, will travel
Date: 2007-02-28 12:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 02:00 pm (UTC)Not as far as the rest of us are concerned, good-lookin'!
Hubba-hubba!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 02:20 pm (UTC)All I can say is, I just LOVE a woman who can correctly use the phrase "epistolary viciousness".
There is no limit to the depths to which you rawk.
Re: have hammer, will travel
Date: 2007-03-01 06:36 am (UTC)Snerk. Ahem.
BWAHAHAAHAHHAHAHHHAAAHHAAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2007-03-01 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-01 06:38 am (UTC)