Sunday Is Shallow Shameful Voyeurism Day
Every once in a while, out of some perverse curiosity, I Google my ex-boyfriends. It's usually after I've skimmed the news and read all of your blogs and checked my three e-mail accounts, watched The Office
and 30 Rock
and The Daily Show
on Hulu, and have laundry or grading I really should be doing, but can't seem to get off the couch. Some vague insistent impish part of my mind wonders how much I could find out. Usually, it's not much, and boredom or embarassment or hunger pulls me away.
Today I found out that one of them, the first one who was important to me, has a child, and for some reason I can't explain, it made me feel sad. Strange that something so far in my past should make me feel this way. I thought, maybe it's because we used to know each other's every idle thought, and now major life events go by unknown. Or maybe it puts me in mind of the capriciousness of fate, how easily one new child arrives to have its impact on the world, while so many other possible people disappear and fade into parallel universes as their potential parents drift away from one another. Or maybe it's disappointment I'm feeling, because what I really wanted was to find out something deliciously terrible, to gloat over.