I stumbled upon some saved conversations of what started past trysts, and promptly closed them after twenty-some lines. Oddly, a huge smile was bubbling up inside me as I read, which is a weird reaction to embarrassment. I can only attribute this to the fact that I have grown sufficiently out of that version of myself that I no longer feel affiliated with her, and thus I can laugh at these mistakes with a wise shake of the head. Or maybe it's because the partner-in-crime is no longer in my life, nor was he ever in any significant way, which means, among other things, not only no unexpected reminders from sightings in day-to-day life, but also no sudden recollections that make me squeeze my eyes shut against my will.
I spent a lot of blog posts about this particular incident, partly due to timing and partly due to the above-mentioned lack of knowledge, which made room for idealization. I spent a lot of time fantasizing how the story's extensions might play out, but reading the ignition of the whole thing, I realize that it might be best left as a full movement in itself. If he came back, he'd come back with these memories of the nonsensical and silly things I've said, and though I just said I have no problems recounting such things, I have no desire to know that there's someone else who could recount them as well.
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Saturday, November 27, 2010
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