Never Change

So, a while back someone tipped me off to the online existance of my high school ex. I drop by there every once in a while, just to make sure we're not likely to be in the same place anytime soon. We didn't part badly, but there are very few people from high school I would ever want to randomly run into, and he doesn't make the list. It's nice to be able to check, you know?

So I'm bored this evening, and I wander past, and lo and behold, he's extolling the virtues of the latest releast by an "indie" group whose popularity has rather outgrown the title. Now, this is not a group I've ever gotten into. I've read their lyrics quoted on one too many teen-angst-ridden blogs. The music behind them could be fucking out of this world, but I still don't think I'd be able to take those lyrics seriously. My ex? Oh, god, some things never change, and I say that fondly. The overwrought lyrics just fit so perfectly with the person I remember, the guy who was determined that the only person he could ever tell his problems to was his Soul Mate.

Dude needed a therapist like what, but all he got was me.

And it used to really hurt to think about, but now it's like remembering a particularly ridiculous soap opera plot. Those people were characatures, acting out a piss-poorly written social script*. It was over ten years ago. A whole decade. We didn't marry after college, as we had planned (stop laughing!); we didn't make it past junior year. I went to Russia, then to New York, then to Duluth. College ended; the sky fell; I moved home, and it wasn't home anymore. I've been ad libbing for five years now, making it up as I go, and it's easy to wonder if perhaps this clown ought speak no more than is set down for her.

But I gotta tell you, if I'm going back on book any time soon, someone's gonna have to do some dramatic revision, because that is some bad writing.

* This extended metaphor brought to you by the fact that I'm really bad at speaking metaphorically.