He shouldn't have told me. Yes, I begged him for the details. "Tell me exactly what was said,"I pleaded. He was vague, talking around the issue. If he was a woman it wouldn't be so difficult. If he was a woman he could give me dates, times, locations, and a detailed rundown of who said what first complete with commentary on facial expressions and body language. But he's a man, so he couldn't do that. I pressed and needled and whined until he told me everything he could remember about the conversation that took place over a year ago. They say that knowledge is power. Why do I feel so powerless now that I know?
I thought knowing that I wasn't the only one who remembered what we used to be would make me feel better, a little less alone and a lot less pathetic. But when the grapevine brought the good news, the relief wasn't attached. Okay, so he gave an FYI, a brief heads up to let someone else know that he had first dibs once upon a time. On some level he still cares what I do (becauese he wouldn't have opened his mouth if he didnt). Why don't I feel vindicated?
The information is useless. One big so the fuck what. It doesn't warrant a "we need to talk" or "how do you feel about me?" It's just a bug that planted itself in my brain and triggers things that don't need to be triggered. A couple of errant what ifs are not what I need right now. There's no moral victory in hearing that I'm not the only one who talks about it (yeah, I'm at a one million to one advantage, but once is better than not at all). More than anything it pisses me off. On 90210 Dylan once told Brenda, "You gave up any right to ask about my sex life when you decided you didn't want to be a part of it." And I must say that I agree. The day he dumped me he gave up any right to care about who I see or what I'm doing. If he wanted to care he should've done so 2 years ago when that was what I needed. Right now, it would be easier to continue thinking that I don't cross his radar. Stirring up old shit just brings flies.