DurAnorak (duranorak) wrote,
DurAnorak
duranorak

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Love in little letters.

So much for my perfect memory.
I'm trying to clear my inbox, since several thousand messages going back six years aren't doing a great deal for my computer, it would seem.
I remember a lot of it. In fact, I thought I was remembering all of it. Then I came across

From: The A Train
Date: Wednesday, July 12, 2000 22:16
To: The Woolf Family
Subject: RE: Ouch

My dear, Em...
I so want to be involved here, I want to be inside and there to help you...

You're right, we were carefully not saying that word, in many ways, but that word is appropriate. Love. But I pray you get this before you go to bed, because I don't want you to go there with this still on your mind...
You're not just some interesting person I met with novelty value, and I do care about you a great deal...
To be honest, again, I'm scared shitless of using the word love. So I'm not going to yet, I hope you understand...
You're not a freak, you're a prize, and that's why I was slow to dismiss Laura's theory...who wouldn't want you, other than gay, married, or possibly over 30-year old men?
You didn't want to bother me with it? For the love of god, Em, it's me! I am here to be bothered by you! Please, bother me...bother me all you can...

I'd say more, but I want to make sure you get this before it's too late...

I'll see you tomorrow, my dear.

Love,
Allen. (apparently unable to type his own name at the moment)


I've no idea who this person is. I mean it - I've literally no recollection of him at all. There are a few other messages from him in my inbox (I had a lot of other accounts at the time though) and none of them say anything helpful.
It scares me. I know I have a near-perfect memory; I also know that the places in which it is less than perfect are ones where you just don't *want* to remember.
But it scares me. I think I must have met him online. I wish I could remember. He writes about taking time off so I could visit him; about a week where he felt I was giving him the 'silent treatment' so he went and had a meaningless one night stand with some girl in Oxford.

I want to delete the e-mails but I can't quite bring myself to. Would he remember, now, who I am?

People are such strange creatures. How could I forget someone who seems to have meant that much to me? One of his e-mails ends with "Love (oh god, I said it)" and when I reread that I got the faintest of distant memories of reading it for the first time.

And now I've got a feeling the world is about to come crashing down around my ears (the whole day has felt a bit like that) so I'll leave this for now.

E.
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