But lest I become too proud of my relative non-insanity, fate/karma/whatever you want to call it had me curled up in a ball on my bed this afternoon, dripping tears all over my cell phone as I placed a frantic call to Talia. It started with Facebook (doesn't it always?) and involved a series of photos of him, my other ex, the one that I myself broke up with, but who I will probably always consider as the one who got away. And I am not even friends with this guy on Facebook, but I am friends with his sister and his dad, so click click and there you go. Anyway, the poison in question was a series of photos of him and a girl in their finest fancy wear doing some dip-heavy dance moves in some kind of ballroom or dance studio. This was followed by some cryptic commentary by friends and well-wishers leading me to believe that the couple in question may in fact be engaged. After some deep breathing in a paper bag and
Damn you, Facebook. And damn you, ex-boyfriends, for having the nerve to go on living and being happy once we are no longer in your lives. It's just ever so monumentally oh so not fair.