The psychopath

I've got a writing assignment due Monday for my legal research and writing class. When I got burned out on working on it tonight, I decided to take myself to the movies. I actually like to go alone, even on Saturday night. I went to see Match Point, and it was good.

But on the way out I saw the IRMS. The Psychopath. We had an extremely brief conversation confirming that we both are okay after the storm. It should have been painless.

But if I could choose one of my exes to disappear from the face of the earth, or at least to send to some corner of the earth I'd never visit, it would be him. I'm a little bit afraid of him. I honestly do think he's a psychopath, for one thing, no exaggeration. And I'm also so, so ashamed of myself for going out with him past the first date, and for really compromising my integrity for the sake of trying to work things out with him--when I had an aversion for him from the beginning. The whole thing made me doubt my own sanity and judgment and led me to think I was better off staying out of relationships altogether.

All I can say to my credit is that I came to my senses and broke up with him. And that the state of mind I was in that lead me into that mess was largely caused by the fall out of falling out with Mr. M. And now Mr. M is back in my life, and he's a better man by far. It doesn't even make sense to compare them that way, as if the IRMS is good and Mr. M is better. The IRMS is a psychopath and Mr. M is a sweetie pie with integrity. The psychopath often made me cry and rarely made me laugh. The opposite is true of Mr. M, and the tears are over the situation and not something he did to me.

But Mr. M is not actually here, is he? Part of the sting was that the IRMS was with a woman, poor thing, and to whatever extent he still has the power to draw me into his headgames, it's like he's won because he's with someone and I was out on a Saturday night alone.

And it doesn't seem right that a twisted headcase like that is walking around and screwing around and feeling just fine, when Mr. M is sick and alone tonight.

It all fits in rather well with the theme of the movie, come to think of it.

Then I was going to see the Red Stick Ramblers at One Eyed Jacks. It was further depressing to drive into town on deserted, decrepit and destroyed Claiborne Avenue. And then you can't park anywhere near the Quarter, but I guess that's a good sign in a way. But I gave up and came home and I'm going to bed alone just like my dear Mr. M.

P.S. At least I looked good when I ran into the psychopath.

P.P.S. He's a psychopath and he's only months away from graduating from medical school, god help his patients.