Alright, it's now official:
the Internet is the Devil's Playground.
I toted up the big board, and can pretty safely say that I now,
am "in contact" with, and corresponding with,
every woman [save 1 1/2*] I ever dated more than three times.
That's right -- every failed relationship is
an ongoing relationship.
Whether they were childhood sweethearts, punk rock posturing [or pining], poetic dalliances, wives, mistresses, or mailing list pals, for some reason either I, or they, have kept or gotten in touch.
For a fucked-up guy like me, having their memories roll around in my head was bad enough. In fact, one prominent ex remained, and remains, a voice in my head. A voice I associate with pleasure and good times, but one whose voice is actually almost always telling me how misguided or fucked-up my [insert action or decision here] is.
Now I get the joy of really receiving that input, without the protective filter of my own head.
It's nice to have the contact, I guess -- in some ways, it's weirdly reassuring to remain in touch with someone who was mainly just a face from a musical period, or someone I couldn't really get to know because I was too screwed up at the time we went out.
But goddammit, it's tiring.
* the one is a prominent "love of my life" whom I actually abhor. I abhor her, and don't want to even mentally associate with the "me" who was in that relationship. Icccch.
The half is an "exotic dancer" [i.e. stripper] whom I befriended/dated -- an aspiring resteraunteur, actually -- with whom I'm in contact, but with whom I actively avoid contact. Too . . . wacky. Which is to say dangerous.
Like they're not all dangerous, considering how stupid I am.