Cathy.com

Did I tell you Dave's ex is also named Cathy?
Funny, huh.
Like my cousin, Karen – I used to tease her because her husband's ex was named Karen. I thought, what kind of same-name-seeking weirdo would marry two women with the same name? It's handy, I suppose. You never call the wrong name out at the wrong moment. Trust me, that's a good thing. My ex is named Doug and, after 19 years of saying Doug, it was hard at first for the tongue to stop at the Duh sound and not continue on to the Ug sound.
Once it started the tongue didn't know enough to say Duh then Aave. The brain knew but the tongue was a screw-up and the brain was constantly apologizing for the stupid tongue.
Nearly six years later, I now call my ex "Dave." So, that's better, I think. At least the results are better, even though the tongue is still stupid.
Where was I? Oh, Cathy. Yes, when the "old Cathy" dealt him him a "get out of marriage free card," he found me. He wasn't seeking another Cathy. There is no Cathy.com website, although that's a good idea. People get matched up for pretty stupid reasons, why not choose your soul mate based on his/her name?
I, for one, would never go to a Jason.com site because I find people named Jason are bullheaded. I work with a guy named Jason and he's one of my favourite people at the office and while he's not even half as stubborn as some guys named Jason I've met, he still has Jason traits.
I would never go to a Phil.com site because they all have red-rimmed eyeballs and pasty white skin. At least the Phils I know. No, I don't know Mr. Donahue but have you noticed the pinkness around his eyes? I think Phils must be part-rabbits.
I'd avoid Darren.com (self-absorbed and possibly gay), Andrew.com (momma's boys) and Doug.com (can't trust 'em).
These are gross exaggerations, of course and, while there very well may be exceptions, this is my blog. So there.
Gawd, what was I saying?
Oh, the ex.
Yes, she popped into Dave's work today so he could fix her pick-up truck.
He told me right off and was all open and honest because, generally speaking, Daves are that way. Especially mine.
And while I always tell Dave not to be jealous of my ex, I got this weird burning sensation in my chest when I heard the ex paid a call.
Jealousy, I think they call it. Jealousy, or maybe heartburn.
Now, I have nothing to be jealous of. Sure she's skinny and I'm not, but skinny ain't every darn thing. I know I got her beat in about a zillion other departments and I know Dave isn't heading back her way. So I have nothing to be jealous of.
Right?
Pass the Rolaids, please.