Leftover memories...

Technology seems to have it in for me, in a way.

A little while ago, my phone died. One evening, I shut it off as usual. Actually, I had almost forgotten to shut it off, until a late-night text came through, waking me from blissful dozing. I read the text, half amused and half annoyed, and shut off my phone, wanting to avoid any future late night calls.

The next morning, I picked it up as usual, holding down the 'end' key until the screen lit and a noise sounded. Only today, the screen lit a bright white, and no noise came.

I tried again, in vain, but the phone was frozen in this limbo. I popped the battery out, put it back it, and tried. Again, nothing. I plugged it into a wall outlet, but still it would not breathe life into the thing. Eventually I walked away, leaving it plugged in for hours. And still, after charging it's little battery meter to full, it would not start up.

Luckily I was going to be able to lay my hands on my previous phone, and visit the telecom company, all in the same afternoon the very next day. After much bitching on my behalf, I was told the best they could do is to send it out for repair and upgrade it's firmware. Skeptically, I switched back to my old phone while the other was out for service.

It's been a while since I'd had the old thing running, and thankfully it still had about half my contact list in it's memory. I also discovered it had some text messages I thought to be long lost.

With the new connection made, a few texts came through that had been sent during my mobile limbo of roughly 36 hours. Once they were read and deleted, I noticed I still had a few text messages left in my inbox, read messages that were left overs from before I switched to my new phone.

I knew who they were from. It's a habit of mine; whenever I start dating someone I'm overcome with giddiness when I get text message from them, and I keep the cute ones that say more than just 'see you at 8'. Perhaps I should revise this policy, or else repeat the same situation.

Having the choice to either delete them without re-reading them (the smart thing to do) and reading them to remind myself of what was said (the stupid thing to do), I naturally chose to read the eight or so messages left on my phone.

"Burr. I'm frozen, it's so cold."

"Work was long, I just want to crawl into bed and thaw out."

"I'll see you tonight, can't wait miss you."

"It's so COLD. Warm me up?"

...and on and on.

Memories flooded back, flashes of the moments that surrounded these messages. His face swam into view, smiling at me when we met after work, or after a last-minute phone call arranged a meeting. And the sadness flashed back, the questions of why it didn't work, and why when there was what seemed to be a level of comfort things went so off track.

It's hard, in these moments, to be reminded of how things were before things ended. It's especially a slap in the face when you're still single, and he's happily in love with his not-so-new boyfriend, the one that came after you.

It's not so much that you question why things ended. Though I don't really know what went wrong between the two of us, I'll chalk it up to his young age (all of one year younger than me) and his 'newness' at the whole dating thing. Sure, it probably wouldn't have worked out...but then why did it work out between him and his obviously-older new boyfriend?...

But I digress...

It's in these moments that I become an 'emotional cutter', to borrow a phrase from Sarah Jessica Parker's character in Sex and the City. I see something in my immediate vision, something that will remind me of a painful moment in my past, and instead of steering clear of it, I dive headfirst into a facefull of it.

I'm an admitted sentimentalist, which doesn't help the situation. I can rose-coloured-glasses almost anything, it seems, even when other people tell me I should list things in the 'asshole' category instead of looking back with any particular fondness. It also doesn't help that I have nothing promising and new that diverts my attention from this type of situation. I can't say to myself, "Gee, I'm so happy with [boyfriend] that reading this doesn't even bother me!" Instead, I end up saying to myself, "Why did this not work, and why am I never allowed to be happy when I want to be?"

Technology makes it almost impossible to shirk these moments off. Be they leftover text messages, e-mails, or worse, the still-active Facebook friendship between ex-lovers, it becomes almost impossible to ignore exes without actually working at it.

I'm assuming back in the 'old days', once you stopped calling an ex, you would probably loose touch of them, save actually bumping into them or their name being brought up in certain circles. There may be the chance for love letters or notes, but that's probably not a big possibility. You would be cut off from the person, and for the better; things didn't work out, and a friendship wasn't born from the experience, so they basically stopped existing to you.

Nowadays, it's almost impossible to loose touch with someone without trying to. If it's not leftover text messages on your cell phone, then it's their presence on you IM account, e-mails left undeleted in your inbox, or the link via Facebook that allows you to browse through their current life. I can go online, click their profile and be exposed to the latest pictures they posted, the people who are writing things on their pages, their relationship status...

It's always a kick in the balls (a self-inflicted kick in the balls, at that), but I willingly submit myself to the momentary flicker of sadness when I see new pictures of [x] boy and his new beau. It usually starts innocently enough, with a, "Oh, hey! [x] changed their profile picture. I should take a look!" One or two clicks later, and two smiling figures are shown embracing each other, not a care in the world. It stings, because in addition to [x] boy, the other smiling face is not yours, but belongs to someone else.

Of course, you shake off all the bullshit, because things didn't work out. It's not like it was going to be you standing there beside him, because he was a jerk, or the timing was wrong, or the spark just didn't take. But you allow yourself and your imagination the two seconds to take hold, and to make you feel the regret that he's with someone and you're not.

I admit it's stupid, and crazy. Why invest even a nanosecond in something like this? I can't even answer that question. But look within yourself...have you ever had a lonely, weak moment where you aren't thinking with the most clarity? A moment where you might do the same thing, something that had innocent intentions but ultimately wound up a little less innocent?

And what of these jerks that don't just delete you from their lives? Are they too sitting on the other end, looking back at you, and wondering what you're doing? Did they not remove you from their lives because they still harbour the smallest flicker of affection for you?

Or did they simply forget you even existed, stupidly overlooking the fact they still allow you glimpses into their lives?