Sometimes, you wish you'd had the chance to talk to her when she was here

Sometimes, you wish you'd had the chance to talk to her when she was here. Sometimes, you wish that you knew what she knows about him – the many ways he's annoying, the endearments that make you forgive his every faux pas. Because she does know – she knows his middle name; she knows what position he likes in bed and what his favourite meal is. She lived with him for eleven years and she knows him inside out. And you're stuck in the learning curve.

Nothing is so good it lasts eternally
Perfect situations must go wrong
But this has never yet prevented me
Wanting far too much for far too long.

And you're wishing now, even with darker hair and a newly confident demeanour, that you know what she knows about him. You never had the secret looks and the sidling by, the promise of trysts later in the on-call room or even just lunch in the cafeteria. Because although you were always the envied ones, it was all for show. You'll bet she never sat at the kitchen table for hours, dinner growing congealed and cold on the plate before you, waiting for him to remember he had a wife and a dinner date, and how ridiculous was it that you even had to MAKE a dinner date with your own husband? How ridiculous was the whole marriage . . . and you thought you knew him so well, but really, you got stuck in the learning curve.


Looking back, I could have played it differently
Won a few more moments - who can tell
But it took time to understand the man
Now at least I know I know him well

You fold your hands over your knee; you ignore the pain in your joints and the fact that he hasn't looked at you since Rose, and you stare straight ahead, knowing and feeling it in your bones. It doesn't matter how long he dates her, how much he tries to prove a point. He can't erase your face from his mind – the scent of your lavendar from his skin.


Wasn't it good?
Wasn't he fine?
Isn't it madness
He can't be mine?

But in the end he needs
A little bit more than me --
More security
He needs his fantasy
And freedom
I know him so well.

And all you want to do is smack him one, make him see, that he gave up you for her but she's pretty damn good, too. You flick your hair and smile and try to make it all okay, hiding behind the fact that it hurts, dammit, because you weren't good enough. You hold her close to you in greeting, and she's surprised, but you can feel the hurt through her skin and you wish you had told her sooner – about his quest for perfection; his quest for the pedestal woman that no real woman can be and that neither of you are.

No one in your life is with you constantly
No one is completely on your side
And though I move my world to be with him
Still the gap between us is too wide.

You watch him smile and flirt, always turning his body to you, trying to prove some weird point. The pain is stabbing, occasionally, hitting an old scar because you don't know what it's like to not be wanted by him. And all the triumph you felt with her – the way you'd smile to know you were the most-wanted, the first in his life – it's drained. Because now you know it for sure; he never knew either of you well, and what's more, he didn't care enough to work through the issues to the base of your love.

Looking back I could
Have played things
Some other way
Looking back I could
Have played it differently
Learned about the man
Before I fell

I was just a little
Careless maybe
But I was ever so much
Younger then
Now at least
I know him well

I know I know him well

If you could say one thing to her, it'd be, "This too shall pass." The pain – the longing – the need for passion and love and tenderness – it'll pass. Never completely. Never enough that the pain fades totally. But you wish she could know that she'll wake up one morning and the first thing she feels won't be longing for him and the way things used to be. However, you also wish you'd known that yourself, because although you'd had your heart broken before, it had never, ever been this way.

Wasn't it good?
Wasn't he fine?
Isn't it madness
He won't be mine?
Didn't I know
How it would go?
If I knew from the start
Why am I falling apart?

You're second-guessing it. You spend your free time agonizing while he's moving on. Because part of you thinks that this is him, being an idiot, fucking you around because he's not the perfect man he wants you to believe he is. And that's when you wish the most – because you know his thought processes and you know his expressions.

And you get a little pleasure at the thought that no matter how he looks at her, it's never the way he looked at you. Your head's held a little higher, and it's then that you realize somewhat what it must have been like to be her.

The dignity. The special treatment. The stares in the hallways turning from admiring to contemptuous. It's all gone.

But in the end he needs a
Little bit more than me --
More security
He needs his
Fantasy and freedom
I know him so well

You head to the door, your hair like a flag in the sudden suck of the wind, and you watch her, standing beside him, waiting for the validation that will never come.

You watch her, standing at the door, her hair flying behind her, and envy her the freedom from the validation that will never come.

But you hang on – you wait for the next part of the story.

After all, you both know him so well.

It took time to understand him
I know him so well.