10:02 a.m. - 2013-01-18
unsettled score
Yesterday he took the kids out of the car, and then he came back and threw two snowballs at the car, barehanded, and I flipped him off as I drove away.
That's the playful little boy in him I missed terribly these last few years. With all his promotions, cuff links and cheating, I thought he'd lost that imp smile I used to love, and the ability to jump out of nowhere and scare me and throw snow bare-handed, in a suit and shiny shoes.
If he can be cute again, that's nice. Maybe we'll get along better. I have hard time getting along with people who take themselves too seriously. Him in particular.
And yet, I so wholeheartedly Don't Care. Cute, playful, impish or not, asshole or not for that matter, he's a man and no man can hold a candle to A. Any heterosexual man can understand this, right?
I do have this fantasy, one of probably three or four small delicious revenge fantasies, where he keeps throwing barehanded snowballs at my car and I keep cracking him up (I do) and being just as skinny and leggy and blonde as I was 10 years and two kids ago (I am), and being the one who still gets him best sometimes, so someday he will say, "I know I really screwed up, and you have no reason to even consider it, but could there ever be, someday, any chance ...?"
And I could say:
"You have GOT to be fucking kidding me."
And I would mean it -- I already do -- but I would love the chance to say it. It's a nice fantasy. That's probably why those snowballs made me smile. Not because I have any use for the boyish grown-up man, but I still have a little score to settle, and so instead of ignoring him I gave a Look and the finger, beckoning him closer.
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