The Ghost of Christmas Past.

Saturday, 30 June 2007

What biological imperative is it that refuses to let us forget our ex-partners? Is it the mere presence of unfortunate long-term memory cells? Probably, little bastards. Would we not rather forget these people? Erase these fuckers from our minds so that they don’t have the opportunity to pop up into it again, amid some otherwise pleasant recollection?

I’m not saying that we should have to revert to the people we were before we met them, after all there a plenty of lessons that I have learned that I am grateful for but which are the direct result of a failed relationship. Like for example: Don't date sluts. Or... Don’t go out with cheating whores.

See? Valuable lessons that I would otherwise not have learned. Although in retrospect I should have at least had a vague knowledge of these lessons already, but hey...

The seasons are changing here and the air is getting warmer, particularly at night and something about warm nights reminds me of Christmas. Anyone in the northern hemisphere will have absolutely shit-all idea what I’m talking about but trust me, when the air starts to heat up and you can sit outside under the stars and listen to the crickets... I just start craving that Yuletide joy. So one night I’m sitting outside thinking about Christmas, as we’ve already established I am wont to do, and an Ex pops into my head. Something about Christmas and the Ex. I don’t know exactly what it was, hell I don’t care but what I want to know is why? Why would my mind try to punish me so?

Remember her? What a crack-whore huh? And YOU dated her! HA!

I mean really? My mind shouldn’t be able to just randomly go sadistic for recreational reasons should it? Maybe I hate myself in some Freudian sense and I actually did it on purpose?

Or may the reason we retain the memories of sluts and crack-whores, bitches and slags, is to make these moments in life more precious. Maybe our mind shows us what it used to be like in order to make us appreciate more what we have right now. If this is the case, I can only hope that my SENTIMENTAL SONOFABITCH MEDDLING MIND GOES TO HELL AND DESTROYS ITSELF IN A FESTERING MALIGNANT PILE OF DEMENTIA...

Because really I have no need for comparison. Velvet, my beautiful girlfriend, is without a doubt the most interesting, funny, loving, inspiring, gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. And I knew the moment that I fell in love with her that I was discovering what love was for the first time. Which means that there a couple of sluts in the recesses of my mind TAKING UP VALUABLE BRAIN SPACE. So here’s hoping they invent some kind of brain surgery that gives you back that valuable brain space that is currently being taken up with useless birth dates and pointless fucking songs that you don’t really like. Things that were once important but which now, in the light of the most important woman in your whole life, pale feebly in comparison.

If you find yourself victim to a random recurrence of a nasty ex-partner memory I suggest cursing that ex-partner with some vicious form of Voodoo or Satanic Magic.

Happy hexing boys & girls...

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