Hell Hath No Fury

Sleepless summer nights have granted me the opportunity to think more than usual. Thinking has led to reminiscing. Reminiscing has led to looking into the past. Who isn’t intrigued by the ghosts of losers past? Gossip, after all, is what I’m good at.

We all remember the past in a certain way. Those memories are then canonized. Too often, they become for us the literal past. Whether it all happened accordingly is not the point. In addition, I see myself as the main character to whom all is done. I am loved; I am hurt. I’m the center of each memory. Again, who isn’t? Rarely do I consider that the exes or friends may too have had their own versions of the past.

I have begrudgingly realized that my version, however hallowed, is but one version. Recently, I discovered that my freshman-year boyfriend, Vincent, was still in a relationship with the guy with whom he cheated. For almost six years, I have remembered the story only one way. That way didn’t include a happy ending for anyone, especially me.

Alex, "the other guy," was for me a figure in passing. He was a rock in the road, a shoelace that had become untied. As it turns out, I was the fleeting fuck. It appears that I was temporarily cast in role of "Alex, boyfriend forever," until the real actor healed from his nose job. It’s clear now that Vincent and our mutual friends knew that I was to be but for a moment. In retrospect, I know that I was alone in not knowing.

More recently, I have passed time retracing my steps, wondering about other similar instances in my dating past. Was I always this clueless? Have I ever even occupied a spot at the periphery of men’s minds? Should it matter that I might be the ephemeral ex?

It’s all so backwards! I feel that affairs have become a lot like relationships. Affairs can feel so right and last longer than they should. Relationships, on the other hand, have become a lot like affairs. The good ones start off as hot and steamy whilst becoming life-changing.

There is no easy way out of this one. Honestly, who takes the high road anymore? "Bitter" isn’t the right word. Naturally, I compared myself to "the other guy." He’s taller, thinner, and probably younger than I am. So, I’ll concede. If affairs are the new relationship, then "still pissed" is the new "over it."