I’m really feeling quite horrific. The crying in public kind of horrific. So I’m concentrating hard on things that prove we were not meant to be together. High up on the list is the time he got paint on my carpet and never even attempted to get the stains out. There’s also the fact he’s the only person to ever make me feel bad about having a breast reduction when I was 21, saving me from a lifetime of back pain. And, of course, he doesn’t love sunshine or the beach.
But, all that aside, a funny little memory has stuck in my mind.
This is not my first expedition into the blogosphere. I used to write a blog about animal fashions. Just to be clear, that’s not fashions for animals to wear: it’s human fashions with an animal twist. I was never very regular in posting and I’m pretty sure only my friends read it (and a few Russians according to the stats). I kind of gave up on it after the ex before the ex told me it was stupid and immature. But I enjoyed it. If you ever want to check it out it’s The Lion The Kitsch and The Wardrobe Heaven knows when I last posted anything.
So, rewind to January and I’m meeting the ex’s best girlfriend (in a platonic sense) for the first time. She’s a hipster architect. We get talking about blogs and I mentioned mine. As soon as she got home she looked it up and texted the ex telling him how awesome and hilarious it was and asking me to write more.
But he never even looked at it.
Was he not curious? That was back when I thought he really was madly in love with me (and he regularly told me he was). I took an interest in all his crap. At the time I dismissed it, thinking he just wasn’t into animal fashions (not a deal breaker), but now it has me thinking. Did he just like the idea of me?
Clearly he was far too busy reading The Guardian and The FT to catch up on a few quirky blog posts regarding ponies, puppies and pandas.
Well, once again it’s his loss. His loss in terms of fashion commentary, you understand.
Pizza of Doom 
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