A Brief History of Time Dilation
I don’t think much about the ex anymore.
No, really.
Her name comes up occasionally in conversation, the talk moves on, and that’s that. No big emotions, no big deal.
However, in the last few days, I finally decided I didn’t like living in an apartment which, six months after move-in, still looks like a Box Brothers store. So I’ve been making an effort to get the rest of my shit unpacked. That process entailed *repacking* some paperwork and a few stray possessions that need to be shipped to her, on the off-chance that some of it may be important. Also because I promised I’d send it, and I’d consider myself a mean sucky bastard if I just threw it away. (Not that I don’t aspire to mean sucky bastardhood, but chucking her stuff seems too petty a way to earn the designation.)
Anyway, handling these artifacts did produce an unwelcome emotional response: acute irritation, directed not at the ex but at Albert Einstein.
The passage of time *is* relative, not only to physical position and velocity but to geographical distance and psychological states.
Major news flash, I know.
Still, something galls me about the fact that, from what little I know of her life since the breakup, she’s moved on — and on — and on. To her, I’m almost certainly an ancient tale written in fading ink on crumbling papyrus. To me, she’s a month-old issue of *Time*; the news is stale, but the ads are probably still valid.
My point, I suppose, is that time dilation is a bitch.
And then you die.
July 16th, 2006 at 10:20 AM
Amazing how old memories and feelings can bubble to the surface and, at times, instantly be brought to a boil. My best friend died 10 years ago as of July 2nd. It truly amazes me that it has been that long.
As far as the ex moving on-and on-and on….. while I don’t know her at all, there is something to be said about the possible reasons for the continual movement, without taking a rest to consider why one may feel the need be continiually moving on from.
July 16th, 2006 at 1:16 PM
If you’d had my ex, your last sentence would have been “And so was she”.
And, believe me, that’s all anyone wants to hear about that.
However, the differences in perspectives you describe can be attributed to the fact that you’re a contemplative soul. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be the fine writer that you are.
I don’t know if you’ve mailed the parcel already, but might I recommend that you get a couple of close friends, go as a group to send it, wave bye-bye, and then go out for pie (or whatever tickles the pie-receptors in your brain)?
Make it a celebration, dammit.
July 16th, 2006 at 8:31 PM
Fred: “As far as the ex moving on and on and on … while I don’t know her at all, there is something to be said about the possible reasons…”
I, uh, didn’t actually mean it that way, just that she’d put vast emotional distance between herself and the breakup.
Screw Einstein. Now I’m pissed at Freud.
July 17th, 2006 at 3:59 AM
Hmmm… now you have me wondering if I’m guilty of projecting.
Screw Freud. Now I’m pissed at the local Cinema.
July 17th, 2006 at 11:21 AM
There’s this girl I really like(d) who had ended an engagement to some other guy right before we met. We had a great time for several months, only to have her tell me that she couldn’t commit to a relationship. So I told her we should take a long break. Then she came back into my life again a few months later, only to dump me a few weeks after that. Fast forward a few months to a couple of weeks ago, and she’s calling me again.
Women suck, right? I’m through with her. I just want my copy of Persepolis back that I loaned to her. It’s like a switch has finally turned in my brain that made me realize I’m better without this chick. I don’t wish her ill, I just want her to leave me alone forever.
It’s a major relief to have my brain functioning again.
July 26th, 2006 at 6:33 AM
“To her, I’m almost certainly an ancient tale written in fading ink on crumbling papyrus. To me, she’s a month-old issue of Time; the news is stale, but the ads are probably still valid.”
Damn, I know this feeling