All it took was a phone call. It helped that I was a little drunk. I picked up the phone and I called them and asked them to go to dinner with us, which turned into a grill out at their place. He could have done it, but I did it instead.
This is significant because I spent a good deal of time trying to hate these people. I actually went out of my way to loathe them on the sly--while living with them, which is probably one of the most stressful things I've ever done to myself. I can't say if I was successful at the attempt, but they still seem to have some fondness towards me or perhaps they have the better poker face.
In my tyranny, liking them was not allowable because they were just so awful to live with. Now that I don't live with them and neither does he, dealing with them isn't so bad and I've actually discovered that I don't mind them too much.
Mind you, she is still a drooling cesspool of desire around him and I hate her for the way she captivates him. I hate him for being captivated. My cover was almost blown in one disgusting moment in which they exchanged their completely out-of-place platitudes and another friend of theirs bore witness to the emotional tsunami brewing inside me.
As I grow more and more comfortable in my own skin, I am finding that I stand my ground and interrupt her attempts at captivation. I assert my place next to him, after she somehow manages the feat of sitting down right beside him; several times I've asked her to move over or switch places with me.
And maybe it is that I realize that my anger and fear were so irrational, so illogical that I needn't worry anymore. She can throw herself at his feet as much as she likes, for that matter, any of them can, because he is mine and I am his and everything else is just what happens until we are together again.
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