The thin line between love and irate

Someone once told me that the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference. I think that's probably true. Because when you hate someone, they hold power over you.

Hate means you care enough to think about them by wishing them ill. Indifference means you don't care at all.

Let's face it... when you run into an ex, short of having him tell you how skinny you've become and how wrong he was to let you go, the second best scenario involves him still being hurt and mad. Because the third alternative is that he doesn't remember dating you at all or, even worse, acknowledges how very little you meant to him.

Today I saw/talked to LB for the first time in three weeks, the longest we've gone since meeting. I've dreaded today for almost the whole three weeks. Would I be sad? Still mad?

Turns out I'm kinda over it. I know it sounds hard to believe but somehow, without the benefit of my love-colored glasses, I realized that he's not so great.

So I was nice. Even friendly. But when he asked if I'd be joining them tonight per usual, I said dispassionately, "Nah. I have plans later." And the petty, vicious gal in me took great pleasure in it.

Perhaps I'm not indifferent, but at least he thinks I am. Touche.