Being remembered

I had a boyfriend years ago, who I'm still friendly with. He informed me the other day that he now has a blog. When we were together, he had a rule that two writers in a relationship could not talk about, nor share their writing. Naturally, I couldn't wait to read the blog. The thing is, he talks about his girlfriend, or "lovah" as he and Carrie Bradshaw like to say. A lot. Like more than I've ever talked about the recent ex, either pre or post-breakup. I enjoy reading, but boy am I glad that he didn't have a blog when we were together, because I certainly gave him enough material. (ammunition?)

He had a concise little narrative about every woman he'd ever been involved with. I asked him once what my narrative would be when all was said and done, and he said...

Jess was amazing. She had an incredible imagination, and wore red leather boots, even in the summertime.

I'm glad that will be my legacy - and not a series of posts detailing tantrums during dinners.