pixelated.me

I spoke to my ex this evening. She'll eventually read this post which makes this feel a bit exhibitionist of me, more than a blog usually is, in any case.

"i don't feel any particular way good or bad about talking to you." i said, or something like that. I think i may have lied, because while i don't feel anything AS particular about talking to her as i did say a year ago, i do feel somewhat, stirred up. It's unprecise but there's this slight scrambled sensation in my gut/head.

So we exchanged pleasant updates about our lives, work, family, holiday plans and all is rather okay and unremarkable until she mentions she's in love and though it pains me to admit it, for it paints me as rather Neanderthal, i felt some odd sort of...discomfort at idea. It was somehow so much easier when my idea of her was of someone jumping from crush to crush with all the speediness of a tigress devouring prey, It made me feel uniquely privileged to have loved her, been loved by her, and somehow the knowledge that she's happy, settle, has found another someone to love feels bitter.
Sure i'm happy for her in some generic sense of the sensation but truely i suppose that despite my own life, my own relationships, my own loves, I liked the idea of her as not in love, but perpetually struggling through relationships.

Perhaps that is a bit petty of me or just selffish and egotistical, I may always be her first love but, in love, being first rarely means best since we tend to improve upon our ability to love the more great loves we've fucked up.

at least, like everything else in this blog, that's my opinion.