No, my dear friend, I've let any romantic notions of you go long ago. Honest, they've gone the way of my graphic tees, my cigarettes, my Myspace account.
No, wait. Ever seen Casablanca? Captain Renault said something to Rick like, he liked to think Rick had killed a man, and that was why Rick couldn't return to America? Renault said it was the Romantic in him that wished that.
So, correction, I do have Romantic notions of you. Mind you, my marriage is very much solid. Were we to meet again by chance (I don't see it happening, though we live mere blocks apart), I would not be the least bit inclined to govern myself as Rick had, even if you threw yourself at me as Ilsa did.
But I would've liked to think you'd have taken off for Alaska at some point, like you wanted. You'd have seriously pursued that goal of becoming a flight attendant. You'd have taken a crack at being a tattoo artist. Thats the Romantic in me.
Your bleak apartment building, in the industrial part of town...that machinist guy who doesn't hold his own and youve caught cheating....that cubicle farm....dear Lord, it is not only unromantic, its not you as I knew you. What happened to you?
Then I see on Facebook you are engaged to him. You signed up for a life of this, its not just a rut you were in?
I reached out to you then, first communication in well over a year, maybe two. I congratulated you.
I put a quarter of the Listerine bottle in my mouth thereafter, and spat all over the shower stall. I hadn't been so insincere in a very long time.
But nevermind me; you aren't true to yourself in the least.