Henrik Ibsen, a 19th century Norwegian dramatist, has likened not “getting over it” to carrying a corpse in the cargo of a boat.  That is to say, we can try to sail forward, brave new waters, but if you’re carrying a corpse in your cargo, you’re not going to get very far. You’ve got to dump the body, let go of your ghosts, and your past to get anywhere.

When you hear the name “Jennifer Aniston,” and are asked to quickly, off the top of your head, free-associate, I’m guessing you might respond with any number of these associations:

Friends, Haircut, Brad, Angelina, Oprah, Girl Next Door, Sweet, Heart-shaped face, John Mayer, Courteney Cox, Layers, Scorned, Skinny, Zone Diet, Yoga, Cigarettes, Biological Clock, Marley & Me, Office Space, Picture Perfect, The Good Girl, She’s The One, Edward Burns, Vogue, US Weekly, The Break-Up… and of course, the break-up.

We push those associations on her. How is someone supposed to move on when she’s consistently asked about her past? People have said, “[it happened] 4 goddamn years ago. People have talked about 9/11 less than this.” Get over it already, people chant when referring to recent interviews, but they never stop to ask, “Who’s asking her about that… still?”

Personally, I suspect she’s dumped the body, but each time there’s an interview, she’s asked for the latitude and longitude of the corpse. That said, the minute she says she’s over it, people are quick to quip, “The Lady Doth Protest Too Much.” Because you can’t win. People are going to believe what they want to believe. And people can be assholes.

I do not go around googling the wasband…

I speak at book clubs. I get interviewed. People always ask about the wasband and “The Rome.” No, it doesn’t offend me–why would it? But to assume I’m not over it is just that: an assumption.

The wasband and his family (yup, even Rome) will likely be in Austin this weekend to attend Andy Roddick’s wedding. I know this not because I google him, certainly not because I ask around, but because people feel compelled to send me such updates with subject lines like, “Thought you’d find this interesting.” And surprisingly, it doesn’t piss me off. It doesn’t make me laugh. It doesn’t make me feel anything. Okay, maybe a little disgusted.

I will say it does open my imagination to what I might say if I happen to “bump into” the wasband and his new redheaded fiance (another bit of information that came to me via email). That’s when I start to smirk. Anyone care to camp out at Andy Roddick’s home with copies of Straight Up and Dirty? I hear Elton John will be performing, “The Bitch Is Back” and “I Think I’m Going To Kill Myself.”