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The Internet was made for ex's of all stripes. In moments of quiet compulsion, we look them up, catch a glimpse, maybe see their best smiling face of the moment, how they're holding up, what career they chose, how many children, spouses, if they look happy, if they were pleased with that humidifier they reviewed on Amazon. Maybe we'll write them some day.

Really, the web should be renamed, something relegated to ex-everything. Exernet? MyFace?

The other evening, for reasons not obvious to me, late at night I found myself taking screenshots on Google maps of a house I lived in for less than a year. Did I want to see if it was still there? Did it not smolder and flame up when I loaded my junk in my Geo Metro, gave the town the finger and left? Why is it not ash and heaps of debris?

People mean worlds more than houses, obviously, but this compulsion to see what once was, blissful or not, I assume is not unique to me. Maybe sometimes a house is easier to look at.

Often, after I've succumbed to curiosity, I've wished I'd simply let my ex live in memory. Especially if those memories are tender and intense, ancient. However, it's a pleasant affirmation when you can tell yourself your perceptions are valid, your youthful impulses were well founded, as in wow, she's gorgeous and brilliant, just as I recall.

Then again, some faces I can't look at as it makes me breathless and flushed and I still feel like dying.

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post #263
bio: john ball

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