Just a strange little story...
Many years ago, long before I met H, I started dating an engineer with a big bike. I had a huge crush on this guy, and was amazed that he even looked at me. My dad hated him, hated his bike, so I had to sneak out to see him. One fine day about 32 years ago, he took me on a picnic to a beautiful hill with another bunch of bike-lovers. I felt tongue tied and awkward, not only because the helmet had squashed my hair, but because they talked about nothing but their bikes, (or beer).
"did you hear the roar of that Bonneville?" "Yeah, he's put in an oil pump upgrade- blocked off the passages where the oil flows to the hydraulic tensioners, a great way prevent sumping..."
In the middle of all this, there was one engineer/ biker who was actually capable about talking about other things. I didn't even remember his name, and I think I would have forgotten altogether if my bf hadn't taken a photo of me talking to him.
But my romance with my bf was short lived, just 3 months, and I got my first broken heart. Actually, I was convinced that I just wasn't pretty or interesting enough. It took a long time to get over.
Fast forward to the internet age, FB, etc. I started to get in touch with friends from far away and long ago, and up popped the bf who had so carelessly tossed my heart around. After some friendly chats and updates (he's now happily married), he actually apologised for his dirty rotten scoundrel treatment of me so many years ago... well, even after 30+ years, that was nice, even if it doesn't matter any more. I sent him, at his request, that photo he'd taken of me and his unknown friend so many years ago, and he said "oh yeah, that's PK, I see him all the time." He also loved the photo, because it brought back such good memories of our day out. Really? I can't have been such a failure, then! Wish I'd known that 32 years ago...
Today I got an email from PK, this guy from the photo that I hadn't seen for more than 32 years, and that I barely remembered meeting more than once. Unlike me, he remembered meeting me several times, fancying me rotten, having great conversations with me, and I was apparently so kind as to invite him to dance once... everytime he hears "Layla", he thinks of me. He even advised my ex bf not to give me up...
So that one fine day from the photo carried memories for different people in different ways. I had thought that the day existed in my mind only, and was too insignificant to be remembered by anyone else. How wrong I was. And how wrong I was about how I was seen by the world, although I was so down on myself.
It also shows that even though our hearts are broken, that the outcome is not what we hoped for, it doesn't make us any less interesting or beautiful as people. We shouldn't let the situation tell us who we are inside.