Dirty Laundry

I have an ex-fiance. Which, saying that 2.5 years ago would have made me break down into inconsolable tears, if I had managed to say that at all. But now, it's just part of my past and I accept it as that. (Doesn't mean all has been forgiven and forgotten and I wish him the best of luck or any other of that sunshine zen business. Still lots of anger and bitter you know). The point is that it's just a fact to me now. And while it may be in the past, that doesn't mean you or someone has to like it or need to be reminded of it with physical evidence.

Since the engagement ring (squee!) card has been seriously thrown into my field of vision, and I am a squealy, romantic girly girl, I have a hard time not being helpful and showing/telling/squealing to Mike about what we (uh huh) want his ring to be. And having already worn a ring, there's a precedent he (and me) wants to surpass (which it will, no matter what it looks like (ok, maybe not completely no matter...). A better/healthier relationship gives you a different focus other than the material aspect of it. Still, shiny+Sarah=squee!). Because I have the grace of an elephant when it comes to jewelry, eventually I just told him what my old engagement ring looked like. Which I didn't think had too much of an impact on him. But, turns out, dr soc is a little more sensitive to that than I thought. And here is how I know:

We were traveling recently and accumulated some dirty laundry like you do. I keep a reusable bag in my suitcase for the aforementioned dirty laundry. When I/we get home it and it's contents are thrown into the wash and c'est toute (that's french for that's all). We're getting ready to go someplace and dr soc is looking around wondering where as to put his laundry.

me: Oh honey, here's the laundry bag.
dr soc --takes it from me--: Thanks. --Notices the bag has a logo on it but doesn't recognize the name-- What's the name on it?
me: Oh, it's from the jeweler from where my ex got my center stone.
dr soc --his lips tighten just a little bit--: Oh. --shoves his laundry into the bag with gusto, packs it with a little more force than necessary, then drops the bag like 3rd period french.-- Well then I will most definitely put my dirty clothes in there now.
me (to myself, and a little smug* if we're being honest): Hmm, guess he's not as blase about it as I thought.
me out loud: Well, honey, you can see what I put in there too.

*having been guilty of a jealousy bout fairly recently, and also having been on the unfortunate ugly receiving ass hole end of it other times, it was a little gratifying to feel that I mattered)