Ex in Film

I saw this film today and the main character in it reminded me so much of an ex-boyfriend. It was uncanny. He was short, with the same nose, the same eyes, eyebrows, and even those stubby little fingers he was always so self-conscious about.

I wasn't expecting to ever spend so much time thinking about a man who told me I "could stand to lose about five pounds". (Something I never forgave, by the way, even though true to form, HE dumped ME.) I had these weird mixed feelings while thinking about him.

The first impulse is to think what an asshole that guy was, what was I ever thinking, god was he obsessed with big boobs and girls named Jen, and I hope that chick he met after me and MARRIED six weeks after they started dating is fat and with child and driving him crazy because he deserves it. Jerk.

But then there is the second impulse. I wonder what he is doing, how he is, if he's still married, if he has any kids, if he ever thinks about me or misses me. But in actuality, I don't care about any of it too much. Am I getting soft in my old age? Is this what they meant by maturity? I think the answer lies somewhere in between forgiveness and forgetfulness.

It's been almost two years since I last saw him, and I can't say I've ever really missed him. Or even thought about him that much. He is old news. And yes, he dumped me. Yes, he married the very next girl that came along. But he was kind of a jerk and never really treated me that great and I never got that attached to him and therefore didn't have to mourn the loss of him as a person in my life for very long. He just sort of disappeared. Faded away.

So seeing him up on the screen in black and white, in a French New Wave film would have thrilled him to no end. I'm sure he would have preferred a Werner Herzog or Ingmar Bergman film, but hey, Truffaut is no slouch. He should be honored that I made such a connection.