School was good today. Useful. Not concise – but certainly useful. The day started with a dose of Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin’s finest. Not sure why – I think I fancied a bit of ‘Comic Strip’ and it segwayed from there onto ‘Ballade de Melody Nelson’ (absolutely cracking bass line).
When I got home, the song was still in my head, so I decided to do some updated photo touch ups to the backing soundtrack of Franco Pop. It was fulfilling. And then…and then I started to look at old photos. That was bad. What’s worse, was (completely by accident) a cache of photos of an old university girlfriend. One from the second to third year. I wasn’t the best person I could exactly be at that point, so every picture I found of her smiling was like a kick in the chest. I felt like I’ve never been able to explain to someone who I had genuine affection towards why I could never really love them back. I didn’t know myself at all – it was just a dearth of any sort of feeling. And then the worst…the very, very worst. Photos of her on a date with me. She’d made an effort. She looked stunning. She looked happy. I remember it – we went to a pizza restaurant in town, and then a kind contact gave us 4 seats to a film, all to ourselves. Shame the film I’d picked was The Last King of Scotland (For any wannabe lotharios out there – not a great date movie).
I feel guilty. I feel stupid for caring now and not then. I want to say sorry, but I know it doesn’t matter because she’s happy. If they’re happy now, do you have to bother saying sorry anymore? Probably not – after all, it can only really be for your own ego now, rather than for them. They’ve forgotten your antics a long, long time ago. Exactly as they deserve to.