But on the other hand, reading and hearing the rhetoric of impassioned anti-war supporters has got me thinking. Perhaps it is a war not for the liberation of Iraq, or even to weed out a dictator, good enough reasons as far as I am concerned at this point in time, but rather a bid for world dominance by the American government. Oh and it is about oil again as well.

Oh never mind. Here's part II.

Three things that are inflammatory. Race, religion and politics. And they are interlinked. If you do not seek a quarrel, do not comment on any of those.

Wise words, I think.

***

"Leonie, you will do well to consider. You are not the first woman in my life."
She smiled through her tears.
"Monseigneur, I would so much rather be the last woman than the first," she said.

From These Old Shades by Georgette Heyer.

Jealousy is the sour burn of 80 proof vodka
The clenched muscle in your chest that
Is not the true function of it.

"There is something deficient in me. Something that thrives on pain simply because there is a vaccum in my psyche and nature abhors a vaccum. Why else this unyielding jealousy that knows no parameters of decency?

"I know, no matter whether I am the last woman in his life or not, something in me will never let the ghosts of the past rest. I am a necrophiliac, constantly in love with the contents that should have been buried. I dig them out and reanimate them into hideous shambling corpses that shuffle around to the dismay of every party involved.

"I found a small polaraid of his ex-girlfriend. She was nude. I feel physically sick these days when I think about it, so much so I retch the contents of an empty stomach every few hours because it hurts so damnably much. If it was just pornography, I would have been fine with it. After all, he has the basic urges of every sexual human being in the world. But the nude polaraid of an ex-girlfriend in his wallet? Something tells me that I am over-reacting. Perhaps I am. But I swear I can never shut my eyes without seeing her splayed out in the most intimate sense and her "duckies" bared to the world.

"So it's my fault. This invasion of privacy? Yes. Although it just started out as just idle hands poking around his wallet for fun. You know, have a good laugh at your friend's photo taken umpteen ages ago where one usually looks like a convict of some sort.

"My punishment for my own sins.

"A sudden thought. He probably gave her a nude polaraid as well. And that boils down to the crux of the issue. I will never be able to be like Leonie. Self effacing, self sacrificing. So long as there's none after...

"Perhaps it is because as Sweet Teeth pointed out so succintly, "You don't want to be just another woman in his life", and the fact that he is probably going to get another girl in his life. I wasn't the woman he lost his virginity to. I wasn't his first girlfriend. And even if I had sex with him, I wouldn't be the first virgin he deflowered. In fact, I am just one of those random faceless women he meets before his wife, perhaps that is why I am so upset all the time.

"Because I have an ego problem. Because I invested "too much" into him already. I refuse to be just unimportant in the sense of the word.

"I'm tired. I want to end it all. But I am such a coward. If I choose to die, I would take an overdose of sleeping pills. That way, hopefully I will just drift into unconsciousness, or perhaps carbon monoxide poisoning. That reminds me of a macabre anecdote. The Lost One and Sweet Teeth were debating on the merits and demerits of various ways to die. Very scientific of course. Sweet Teeth had a gullotine-like monstrosity which The Lost One was embellishing it to the best of his ability. I just had to spoil the fun by pointing out that carbon monoxide poisoning or an overdose of pills was probably the least painful way to die. Heh."

***

"I have gotten over the whole incident by now. What remains is a sense of competition, well most of the time. Do I look better than she does? Do I? Do I?

"Looking at my reflection, nude in the mirror, a narcissistic idling of systematic comparison. Smaller waist, larger chest, but ultimately too plump here, hip bones undefined, too abundant, too full, not sleek enough.

"What price vanity? What price competition? Idle curiousity bombards me constantly. Was she better than me? I should go learn some cool sexual technique. I should. Fellatio I think. He likes that.

"And then I balk at being a "bad girl" as my mother defines in her book. But maybe one day I won't care anymore."

***

"I don't care anymore. I always strive to be the best don't I?"