Timehop (a typically fun app that shows you Facebook posts, Tweets, texts and the like, from years passed) pulled up an old G-chat between me and an ex-boyfriend when we had just started dating. And will continue to do this until April of 2016 (the month we broke up.)
It would be like if you had transcripts of all of your phone calls and put them in a time capsule and then someone mailed them to you everyday seven years later.
It’s weird. And kind of uncomfortable. But also…fascinating?
At the time, we were obviously rebounding from serious relationships. It appears we ignored this huge red flag and plunged into things head first.
And it was really great and magical feeling. I was also hella insecure and still not at all over the guy who dumped me a mere six weeks before we met.
But there it all is: An entire word for word conversation that I totally forgot we even had. All of the “lol’s” and flirting and declarations of wanting and hoping and eventually, loving.
It’s a strange thing to have access to such intimate detail of an interaction with someone who is long gone from my life.
It’s so odd to watch you fall in love over the computer, to remember it after so many years having not really thought much about it.
All because of a phone app that didn’t exist back then.
Sure, Gmail saved all of these conversations. But I’ve never felt like going back and reading all of them.
Now they’re coming at me like hororscopes. A part of me wants to skim right past them. But it’s like watching a movie of yourself from another time.
I can’t look away.
Not to imply that I want to reminisce about these old times with him. Even if we were on any kind of speaking/friendly terms, it would be way too awkward to have a “remember when?” chat.
Still, there is something about this being between the two of us that makes me wish we could because he’s the only one that would understand. In a bubble that doesn’t exist in real time.
At least now in my current relationship we can go back and read old email exchanges and laugh or remind one another of “that one time” and it’s a shared experience.
Instead I have all of these detailed moments that I’m reliving alone.
I don’t want to erase them and I know eventually they’ll disappear from my consciousness like before. It’s just been a very unexpected thing to have them pop up on my phone, a text message from 2008.