The Watchmen just came out. I read it, and it was truly amazing. I didn’t give comics nearly enough credit, and before you think I was hired by DC to promote the extremely graphic little novel, just understand that the guy, the antihero, my superhero – well he’s right. We’ve entered into an age where superheroes and villains are essentially the same thing, and how do you decipher the good from the bad?
My former fling, once superhero, now villain, is stalking the world wide web, driving me slowly, six feet under. His superpower? His incredible ability? He got me, he made me laugh, and all that other lame stuff that usually had me bolting for the door at zero to sixty in 3.5. It just seemed to work with us, and of course, there was comfort in consistency. And now it seems his evil villain of a girlfriend is so insanely gorgeous it’s like staring at the sun and being blinded. You know you shouldn’t look, but the tiny evil villain inside us all possesses your soul, and you type his name to see her, size up your competition, (you clearly have no choice, you’re merely doing research) and suddenly cyber-stalking is not only a necessity, it’s a professional sport, leaving no time to avert your eyes.
There she is, lighting up the screen like a faulty nightlight, able to shine all over the damn place in your darkest hour. Their happiness should be quarantined before America catches on to the trendy post-valentine epidemic and we’re all destined to live in the midst of a Lifetime movie. And you have to wonder how he just erased you completely – even though that’s what you undoubtedly tried to do to him. Does that make you the evil one? No, it makes you the sane one.
You’ve both entered into a post break-up marathon and it’s a race to the finish line, to see who can pick up the pieces and regain strength before the other. So the conditioning begins, and the methodology is different for every participant, you either erase them, you forget about them completely, or you continue the conditioning. You go to his page, you acclimate yourself to his new brand of heroine, and you do this until it doesn’t hurt. Until you don’t have to avert your eyes. Until your heart doesn’t stop when his page shows up on screen. And if you’re like most? Like the majority of this oh-so peachy-keen all-American nation? You find a new addiction before the one you’re currently hooked on does you in. And what do you do when you’ve gone through them all? Hopefully I figure that out soon, because time’s running out and The Watchmen are right, “American love, like coke in green glass bottles, they don’t make it anymore.”
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