That Alternative Universe Thingie
It's like this. I casually check up on an old boyfriend on yer Googley machine. I do this now and again. Throw a name of an old lovie-dove into the big G and watch it spindry for a while and regurgitate an old Himself into something new and shiny or sodden and sad. It's fascinating. Everyone does this, don't they? No? Oh, c'mon! I'm the only one owning up to it then?
The odd one has an obit, I'll tell ya that can weird me out a bit. And in case you think I've been around the block a few times, well I have. But not as much as you're thinking even though I'm flattered that you would.
Well I did this with one the other night. And guess what, if he's not making a big name for himself in politics. Really big. All based on his honesty, open-mindedness and transparency. A manifesto, like. All printed up on his website like an old papyrus document. And a picture of Himself beside it, all blue-eyed truthiness with a matching sweater.
And I sit there gob-smacked.
Maybe I wasn't looking when we were madly in love a decade ago or maybe those qualities are like bunions – you grow them later on in life. But I remember the last sorry week of our relationship when it became evident he had done nothing but lie to me for the two years we were together.
And broke my heart.