All heard, and none believ'd the prophecy.

Also, I feel like fucking Cassandra in all this. I get the phone call and the news about the ex and can’t believe I have to watch this show again. I so want to tell them the ending and spare them a miserable year. I can’t though. There’s no way they can hear it, intoxicated as they are by another chance with her. Coming from me, it sounds bitter and self-serving and like I’m trying to persuade them to stick with me. And, it turns out people don’t like hearing that their Unique and Beautiful Relationship, the Which is so Deep and Poignant that No Outsider Could Possibly Understand, looks exactly like the other ones from here. They use the same words when they tell me.

I was thinking of a spreadsheet in the shower this morning, with the major milestones counted from Date Informed Megan. It would be simple to set up something where the guy enters the date of our phone call and gets a range of dates for how long it will be all wonderful and shimmery, and when familiar trouble shows up again, and the weeks of worried denial and then the break-up. In fact, I’m putting up. If we stay in touch, which I kinda doubt since I’m being unusually bitchy on the Internets, I expect to get asked whether I want to hang out with him and the other girl the first or second week of July. It’ll be awesome.