on the persistance of memory.

I spent about four hours tonight digging through drawers and the closet of my childhood bedroom. Incredibly bizarre. I found so many things that I couldn't throw away the last time I encountered them (in most cases, this was at least two years ago) because they had such sentimental value. I took some pictures which I posted on my facebook. It was fun and interesting and expressive and quite intense. My eyes welled up once or twice.

The thing is, after looking through everything, I'd be perfectly content to throw it all away. I didn't, though...so I guess I can't really say that for sure.

This idea came to me after finding a photo of me and someone I used to love. Really love. Absolutely, positively. I am currently in another, better relationship with someone I love just as much, but I still think about this person at least once every day, and this person profoundly affected my life, negatively and positively. Anyway, I found a photo of me and this person, and I got the tense-stomach feeling. It's hard to articulate because I'm exhausted, but I think people know what I'm talking about; it's the tense-stomach feeling that you get when you have an encounter or see a photograph of somebody important that you haven't seen in a long time.

I think that people get that feeling because they are very likely to forget what their lovers look like. If I close my eyes and try to picture the person from the photograph (I have not seen him in person in several months), I really can't see him. I can see glasses and hair. If I delve further back into my mental Little Black Book and picture other people, the images are equally fuzzy. However, I can picture Platonic friends--people I haven't seen for years--quite clearly. Worse, when I actually look at a picture of Photoboy, the hair is a different length and the glasses have slightly different frames. It's like my brain is xeroxing xeroxes of my last in-person encounter with this guy.

Anyway, my official research on this (I flipped through a PostSecret book which contained a postcard saying "It's weird...forgetting what you look like") showed that at least two pretentious weirdos have this problem.

Here's my theory. We spend too much time too close to our lovers' faces.

Or other specific body parts. I could tell you a lot of things about my current boyfriend's features: his hairline's surges and recessions, the position of his one slightly snaggled tooth or the shape of a welt he received when I pushed him out of the top bunk of my bed while I was sleeping (I only wish it was a sexier story). Since it's only been a couple of weeks since I've seen him, and I still see pictures of him all the time because I surround myself with them, I can picture his entirety pretty easily, too.

If I think back to Photoboy & Co., I can also remember weird things like hand calluses, freckles, and lip shapes. However, if someone came up to me and said, "Remember so-and-so's Large Public Event That You Should Remember", I see Ray-Bans and Jewfros, or just...height. Nothing more.

I think that, after a breakup, when the photographs are hidden in desk drawers and untagged from the internet, the majority of one's memories of couplehood is limited to these detached, clinical details which lose whatever enticing nature they have with mental replay, forgetfulness and the stages of loss. On top of that, if it was a bad breakup, your mind probably tries to do you the favor of blocking out the whole situation. So, really, the tense-stomach feeling is very Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

I suppose, if you really want to remember someone important, the best thing you can do is take a certain amount of your time together and spend it on opposite sides of the couch. I don't think I'm going to take my own advice here because it's fun to be glued to someone. Still. That's why I think we forget people's faces.

Wow.

Sincerely.