dracomicron

She called. My ex, Vette, the "last" one for these five or so years, called just before I was going to hit the trail and spend the day biking around. I mentioned in the last blog that she'd e-mailed me looking for my number, and I'd had the feeling that there was more to it than just having my name on her contact list, and sure enough, she texted me a couple of times yesterday about the political conventions (she lives on Denver, so she gets the Democrats), and called me today.

After some idle chit-chat where she asked me if I had a wife, girlfriend, or children, and I had to basically tell her that I never got over her, she got to the point, which I didn't follow very well. Something about her wanting me to meet her fiance' because he thinks that I'm her ex-husband, or some such bizarre issue. While I'm curious as to the quality of the guy she's going to get married to, I can't say that I'm all that eager to re-open the old wounds of my personal inadiquicy by spending time with the person she left me for (it wasn't a bad break-up, it was just that we were long distance. You know how it goes). She did not, however, have any sort of plan or timeline when they were going to be in Minneapolis, and you can be fucking sure that I'm not going to fly out to Denver just to meet this guy, especially not with the emergency room bills I still have to pay.

She had to call me just before I went out. I tried to get her off my mind with minor adventures, such as talking to a fellow bicyclist named "Gaea" and stopping by the Obama headquarters in St. Paul that was vandalized last night, where I met a young lady who graduated from the same high school as me back in Eau Claire.

Didn't work. While I completed quite a long ride (out to Falcon Heights and back), my energy was sapped as I dwelled on my lost love. How pathetic is that? Maybe you shouldn't answer that...