Here's a curious thing.

Over the weekend I totally unexpectedly ran into my ex-girlfriend. Now, every time I do this I become aware just how different she is from the person I thought she was, and hence how much happier I am not going out with her. (Although, she is a charming girl, and extremely easy on the eye.) But somehow I still end up mourning the relationship I never had with the person who never was.

Sigh...

Entertaining though she was looking like a cute, short, female, captain jack sparrow, having just returned from Thailand and heading off to Italy. (Spending around 24 whole hours in the country.) This was such a dramatic change from last time I'd seen her (a good 5 years ago I think) that I almost didn't recognise her.

Perhaps I'm just jealous of the jet-setting?

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The one, the only, the undisputed king of the world.

So. Thoughts on this.

(Disclaimer: punky's general philosophy of life is very, very simplistic -- I think that people are pretty much like me, and that there are a precious few, strong forces that influence them.)

My guess would be that you're suffering from the Thomas Wolfe-syndrome; which is to say, "you can't go home again".

I too find myself wondering about my shadow brethren, those punky-like creatures who live their alternative lives in parallell universes, representing all the paths that were open to me, but not taken. This kind of feeling strikes me particularly squarely in the stomach when I'm alone in a foreign country, because the alternatives become more contrasted and tangible: I could live here! What would I be doing? Who would I be living with? And so forth. It's exciting, but also melancholic, because it feels like a massive wall of missed opportunities -- all the things I didn't do, all the people I'm not. A similar feeling can come over me when I think about previous relationships; girls that I was in love with, or who were in love with me, or even both. Who knows what could have been?

Now what does this have to do with poor old Wolfe? Well, the melancholy is fueled by death, right? The passing of time, closing in like night behind you, muffling your footsteps. You can't go home again -- there's no returning to the past, to you and her, because those people don't exist anymore, and neither does the day in which they lived. It's all gone, dead, never to be seen again.

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"If it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." - Tweedledee

To give proper context, said ex is the girl I always thought I'd end up marrying. Which just goes to show how wrong you can be, but never mind.

I've known her since she was 11, and she was quirky, precocious and endlessly entertaining. I found myself creating an entire fantasy version of our relationship (several years later, not when she was 11, that would be a bit odd; as I was 16 at the time.) Based on the very rare occasions we saw each other. This is, I think, a side-effect of the fact I live in a fantasy world of my own making (which bears a startling relationship to reality, except that I'm always "just about to do <insert awesome thing here>").

When we actually went out it turned out (naturally enough) that she wasn't quite the person I imagined she would turn out to be. So I know I'm happier without her, but I'm sad about the loss of the imaginary version.

It's all very confusing.

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The one, the only, the undisputed king of the world.

Punky nailed it with his comments.

I've been in the same situation, and the problem is simple: we romanticize things when we look back. That's about it.

It's happened to me over and over. I've had such thoughts as:

1) I bet things would have turned out well if Aydika and I had gotten engaged a sixth time. We obviously didn't give it enough of a try.

2) Kori's married, she seems like a totally different person, her husband hates me, and she slapped me in spirit last year for reasons I'll never understand, but I totally think we could make it.

3) Paris is a great place to live.

Also, when the other person seems to be doing well, I think there's a strange sort of envy that comes into play. Like, you sorta wish her life was as miserable and pathetic as your own (I mean *me* - not *you*). Latching onto that and borrowing her good times might bring you up to that level. Plus, if she's doing *really* well, then what does *he* have that you don't? Better fix that.

It's too complicated. There's no single overriding emotion, and there are factors that didn't exist during your relationship - the excitement of running into her makes you a dufus.

I know this feeling *really* well.

It might be different for you. I just think that the stupiditization of men when they face exes whom they fondly remember is universal.

There's a million ways to handle this. Sleep with her again. Get right to it. Have a good couple weeks of it, and the newness of the recovered oldness will wear off - then you'll see if you belong together or not. Sleeping together early on is important - if you don't do it, then you'll be busy trying to, and trying to means you'll say all the mushy things that put brains in blenders, the runny brainshake of which becomes, for better or worse (let's assume worse) a relationship.

If you find that you can't get her out of your mind, then look for something about her you can disrespect in a big way. I don't mean that you should do this in some big mean way - do it quietly. I did this recently, and it worked. I'm not angry or whatever - just not interested in someone who would do That. Maybe not the healthiest way to deal with feelings, but effective. And quick.

I had a nasty experience with a girl on August 19th, 1997. It put me in a terrible mood. I couldn't get her out of my mind - I was angry as hell. It was eating away at me, destroying my perception of relationships (I avoided them for three years after that), and it was interfering with my entire life. One day I got tired of it and moved to London. That did the job.

That's my advice, I guess. Find a point of disrespect, stop romanticizing the past, sleep with her as quickly as you can, get hurt by her in a huge way, and then move to another country.

Move to the west coast here, and I'll introduce you to some very fetching ladies who're intelligent and gorgeous and still have enough fun in them to act silly and stupid (my favorites - just fun) when the time calls for it.

If you move to Iceland, I can't help you. And Iceland is just one example of where I couldn't help you. The island of St. Thomas is another example. I think you probably get it from here.

Should things get super pathetic, you can join my Society for the Preservation of Jolene Blalock. It's for a good cause, and she's hot.

Now, off to watch more Farscape...

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- Rory
- Owner of Neopoleon
- Monster in the sack

I know Punky's right, in fact he's more right than he knows, because I'd romaticised the whole thing before it even happened.

Regarding your advice:

What do you mean *again*, you're making some pretty big assumptions there. (Also, being married now, I'm not sure sleeping with my ex would be a great way of coping with life, plus she's in Italy, and I'm not, plus I don't really want to.)

Leaving the country sounds nice, but I haven't found one I want to move to yet. New York effectively put me off 'merica (it kinda felt like a not-as-interesting version of London, clearly it's not for me). So far my favourite country to go to is Cuba, but I have a feeling the tourist experience is markedly different from the resident one. Strangely I always wanted to move to Norway - or Japan, but as my language skills ce n'est pas tout ca, I think I'd struggle.

Also, I don't think Jolene Blalock is really all that hot, which makes me some kind of evil heretic I'm sure; but then I think Indiana Evans is, which definitely makes me some kind of evil heretic.

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The one, the only, the undisputed king of the world.

"Kori's married"

wow. has it been THAT long since we had that chat over coffee while waiting for the boat for you to produce the knife to nearly kill us?

thats scary..

I love it when my brain outsmarts me.

You'd leave London, pass on New York because it's not interesting enough, and move to Norway? Sure.

Is this about welfare?

Nevertheless: I'll buy you a coffee if you ever get here, or whatever strange and sticky British brew you prefer.

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"If it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." - Tweedledee

Well, I live in Bristol - so I'd pass on New York in a "if I was going to move to a big city, I'd move to London" kinda way. (Although San Francisco is probably more my kind of town.) I still don't know what it is about Norway that appeals, I've never been, but I get these ideas about what I'd like, and I tend to be right. (Perhaps I'm too stubborn to admit that I was wrong.)

And it would be Tea, Darjeeling or Ceylon preferably (both drunk black, and fairly weak) but English Breakfast (milky) would be more than fine.

Chances of me moving though, are pretty slim, unless I manage to finally sort out my "I want to make computer games || write a book || become an internet millionaire" plans.

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The one, the only, the undisputed king of the world.

Norway is certainly a fine place to live, as long as you don't come for the excitement.

As for tea: I should be able to get my sister-in-law to procure some pretty decent silver needles.

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"If it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." - Tweedledee