So I Googled a former paramour recently and discovered
he died about a year ago. His online obit is set up so that messages can be
left. The following is a list of messages my evil twin wants to place on the
website, followed by a parenthetical
explanation as to why she wants to do such a horrid thing.
“How did he do it, does anyone know?”
(Both Evil Twin and I are almost certain it was
suicide.)
“If you were truly his soul mate you would have died
within three months of his death.”
(The obit has that usual blurb describing his wife as
his soul mate. Barf. Plus I subscribe to the Vonnegutian theory (see Cat’s Cradle) that if you truly love
someone, you’ll die either with them or shortly thereafter.)
“Last time I saw him, he was wearing my bra and
panties. Can I get them back now?”
(OK, this one is slightly exaggerated. It wasn’t
actually my under wear, it was from his own personal collection. He weighed
about the same as my left thigh, so my lingerie swamped him. But I did leave a
Prince CD (it was the nineties – don’t judge) and a pair of stilettos at his
place (those did fit him) that I would like back.)
But seriously, why does my mind think of these things
first? Why do I not first consider sending his widow a consolatory message? Why
do I automatically think of the bad things? I guess a lot of it has to do with
the fact that the relationship, such as it was, ended badly. Like, for example,
when my purely platonic friend A. died, such thoughts never entered my head.
So, yeah, I guess it just comes down to my jealousy, pure and simple. Jealous
that another chick got to be called his soul mate and not me.
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