Parking Garage By The Theater

[La La Lie – Jack’s Mannequin]

So here’s a thought: when two people who used to be rather close to each other meet up again after a long hiatus – during which the relationship has been stashed away in a shoebox under the bed, then further covered by new boxes, topped off with a glazing of dust – there is always a winner and a loser (this idea was explored in How I Met Your Mother, with Robin’s Sandcastle in the Sand – yeah, one day I’ll write an original post).

They might not admit to it, but the moment they meet up again they start sizing each other up, to see who fared better in the time apart. They start comparing stories after they went their separate ways, and after mentally compiling a list of pros and cons, as unspoken as it may be, one person goes home that night feeling better about themselves – they’re in a better relationship, better job, better house, or they’re just so much sexier, whatever.

But there’s also this other scenario, where two people who used to be close sort of part ways, but they don’t lose complete contact. Through one way or another, they’re being made aware on a frequent basis the changes in the other person’s life. New friends, new job, haircuts, tans, holidays etc. So when they two of them meet up again, they sort of have a general awareness of what had gone on in the other person’s life, and thus a general awareness of who the winner is.

So I wonder, which scenario would be the better?

Personally, I find that the 2nd scenario – or what I prefer to call the We’re-Still-Friends-On-Facebook scenario – is much more painful. I mean, when I’m constantly aware of changes in the person’s life, I feel the need to constantly be at that level too (because usually I’m the one who’s being left behind. That’s my thing). So, for example, when I read updates about how one of my high-school friends got her Ps already, I was insanely jealous and went on a rampage to get more hours done – even though the situations with our families are different, and she was bound to get her Ps early anyway.

Or jobs. Oh my God I hate it when I read about how everyone’s got jobs and they’re going on road trips and I’m being unfit alone at home, writing blogs about being unfit alone at home.

I think, though, with relationships, it’s even more of a deal. I was just watching this episode of Smallville (you need to be ok with the fact that most of my blog posts are inspired by a TV show I was watching) where Lana told Clark that she’s met someone new (Ian Somerholder’s character) and she wanted him to know first.

I get that her intentions were good – let the ex hear it from her instead of someone else, since they’re “friends” and everything – but I bet there is a measure of smugness when someone does that. I mean, if I had a chance to go to my (non-existent) ex and say, “oh hey, yeah, I met someone, totally tappin’ it, just letting you know cos, I want you to hear it from me…sucker” I would grab it with both hands and try my hardest not to add “sucker” at the end, or in my tone, or on my face. Because being able to say that is like the ultimate Kill-Shot for victory (of course, further on the track if what I was “tapping” ended up being some major loser, the Counter-damage would be ten-fold).

Since I’ve established that I’m usually the one being left behind, I just feel that in this scenario, chances are I’M going to be the one scrolling through my Facebook homepage one night (because that’s what I do when I run out of I Can Has Cheezburger to look at) and seeing my (still non-existent) ex change their relationship status, and post some otherwise-adorable-but-incredibly-saccharine-to-me picture of them and their slice of victory pie. The worst part is, I’m pretty sure the WAITING for such a moment is even worse than actually living out the moment – either you are watching a live commentary of them meeting someone new, getting interested, and finally hooking up, or you run all these possibilities through your situation-exaggerator of a brain, settling on the decision that your ex will end up being together with a person who is pretty much you, but better. The only consolation I can give myself is that MAYBE, when they do finally end up with someone else, that they’re actually TRADING DOWN. Although to trade down from me you’d have to be sexually attracted to a gnat.

Ooh gnats.

So, yeah, to clear up some vagueness and actually give you a taste of my personal life, most of the people I used to like, bar two (one of whom was always in a relationship anyway and is now in another state, and the other guy totally deserves someone smarter than me so I’m not even spewing), haven’t found anyone yet. But I can extrapolate and imagine, so I would say that if I ever find someone, and then break up with them (hence finally gaining myself an ex), I would rather just not see them for ages, and then work my ass off to have some Pros to chalk up, so that when I meet them again I may have a chance to be a winner.

Unless, of course, my ex and I decide to be friends. Then I can be all Lana on their ass, and hook up with Ian Somerholder.

Ha….

In other news (this is becoming a REALLY long blog post), I was watching a few of communitychannel‘s oldest videos, and I realize that she had developed her style over the years, and she’d started off with just a webcam and her talking. I don’t know, maybe after my Project365 ends, and…maybe after a few months after it ends because I need to give the internet a break from me, I might start vlogging. If I ever do take up that idea, I’ll be sure to tell about it here. But yeah, keeping the idea alive – I don’t think I can be as funny or interesting, but I may develop a style and become the next communitychannel or kevjumba.

And THAT would be SUCH a Kill-Shot. Internet fame, woo.

Alex.

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One thought on “Parking Garage By The Theater

  1. i think if i happened to bump into my ex’s i’d just tell em that i was doing the usual.. this and that.. you know.. then change topic 🙂

    Haha then you’re probably one of the nicer and less vengeful people on this Earth. You’re a rare breed.

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