If a cow ever got the chance...

Mr. Ex and I play with knives:

X, 12:50 pm (unprovoked, I might add): The quality and frequency of your e-mails has definitely gone down.

Veg, 1:08 pm: When are you dating this from?
Yours have not been 24-karat either. They appear to exist mostly to tell me to e-mail you.

X, 1:09: True. I am comparing your recent e-mails to the ones from 1996. Not even close.
Yes, my e-mails suck. We shall never speak of this again.

Veg, 1:10: I was smarter then. Also, I was trying to impress you and thereby get laid.
Do you actually have my e-mails from 1996?

X: Don't think so... do you?

Veg: No, I deleted them all in a fit of pique circa 1997. Too bad.

X: Pfft. And you claim that you were smarter back then.

Veg: In 1996 I was smarter. In 1997, I was crazy. Then briefly very smart again. Now happy and stable but also kind of narcoleptic.

X: Happy? I don't recall a period of happiness in my own life. rrr.

Veg: Don't be jealous. It only makes me happier. Schadenfreude, you know.

After that he changed the subject and started talking about the Simpsons again, which means I won. This is how we express affection. It makes me a little sad sometimes, which might mean that secretly I lost.

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