Obsession

…..try as he might, he couldn’t hold a grudge against her for very long.  She was just too sweet, too forgiving, too innately likable.  Too perfect for her own good.  Too much of an angel.  Too made for him.  Until she changed.  Until she wasn’t any of those things anymore.  And then it became inordinately easy for him to hold a grudge—even a longstanding, bitter one—against the ungrateful wench he used to adore.  She had been a detestable, ungrateful harlot all along—Okay?!—and he had just been too big of a fool to recognize her for what she really was.  But now he understood, even though that understanding came at an exorbitant price.  He could never salvage the gobs of money he had wasted on the selfish bitch, yet that was the least of his regrets.  All of that money could be re-earned and replaced in not too great a period of time, but the time?  The myriad hours and days and months he had sacrificed to her in the name of “undying love” with the expectation of reciprocity and an idyllic lifelong relationship?  Never.  Never!  That time could never be recovered, and he was now doubtless smarter but also older and less handsome and less virile and balder and surely not better from a mile-high perspective.  And that was all her fault.  She was to blame for it!!!  She had ruthlessly stolen away some of the best years of his life and then casually tossed him into a figurative dumpster like a used latte container.  For that he could never forgive her, nor would he ever want to.  Hatred is what was sustaining him at present and for the foreseeable future.  He didn’t like the taste of it, for sure, yet the taste wasn’t so repulsive that he would willfully turn his back on it—at least for now….