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I plead guilty, your honor. I too wasted time looking for the one I hadn’t even thought about for ten years and I can say it, it’s a bad idea.
Memory is something quite perverse and as with me it sometimes flashes, the sweet Sylvie can easily land out of nowhere when I had forgotten until its existence. Sylvie is not the only one in my collection of stories oflove nipped in the bud, and they all ended up one day or another in my history. Is it healthy? No. Does it have any positive effect? Yes. But it’s not glorious. It is an unhealthy satisfaction to know that the husband of Joséphine does not look like anything when she only stared at me. It’s a misplaced pride to see that Amélie is still so beautiful and that it was me she had chosen for her first time. It must be like reliving a dish from your childhood with tears in your eyes, remembering how delicious it was. And yet, it clearly tastes like failure.
Let’s be a little brave and realistic! If it wasn’t done at the time, it shouldn’t have been. Let’s close our computers and stop calculating. If we have to to regain our love of youth and meet his gaze to better recognize him, or jostle him with his coffee in a shopping center, it must be due to the beauty of destiny. Not because we recognized a Downtown store on one of those Facebook photos and luckily we have some errands to run.
Facebook as an intermediary
The few times I ventured to want to rectify a shot, it was quite crisp. In my thirties, I had heard that one of my terminal loves was officiating at the reception of the Lille media library. Certified social network information. So I had the brilliant idea of going to register in the said media library in a completely fortuitous way and why not rent a Christmas film. As we had spent long hours talking in high school, I could already imagine her smile lighting up her face the moment she recognized me. Once at the counter, the smile was rather politely aimed at all the members. Emotion having won over me, I then trembled all over and was unable to fill out the registration form correctly. I tried to apply myself without going over the boxes, but once I returned the paper to him, it looked as if it had been written by a guy who had only known about the letters for a week. The illegibility of the document led me to spell my first and last name to her, which she had forgotten as much as my features. Needless to say, I never went back, even to borrow a book.
In an attempt to justify oneself, one could approach these concerns from a generational point of view. Being a child of the 80s, the Internet gave me, and everyone I grew up with, a belated but direct access to a past that we might sometimes fantasize that is far different from reality. And since it’s easier to regret than to do things right, the tendency to want to rewrite history, or use any bogus pretext to recontact a ghost and give yourself another chance is really very tempting.
If you’re really obsessed with your childhood sweetheart, for it to work, you don’t have to go online. Just go back to your family for the end of year celebrations, preferably if you are going through a phase of doubt with your partner, or better, if you have recently broken up. You will then fall back on this love of youth completely by chance when you were not expecting it and it will upset you. There will be a few twists and turns, misunderstandings, snow, bells and cheap pastry logs, but normally everything will end well on Christmas Day, and you should be galloping just before the end credits.
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By finding forgotten letters, they unearthed part of their history
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I searched for my childhood sweethearts on the internet and it sucks
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