A blast from the past that quickly became a social cul de sac. Of times long gone by, with bits teasingly remembered but perhaps best left lovingly forgotten.
This is not like unearthing a can of worms that will elicit a look of absolute horror and disgust; it is more like discovering that the petite young ballerina who used to quietly do a pirouette at the corner has now bloomed into a no-nonsense accountant constantly projecting a tough-cop routine. And surprise, surprise – that she is actually a good three years older than you.
Awe. Shock. Awkward pauses in conversations. Long lulls in email threads. Futile attempts at formulating an acceptable and much civilised response. Wonders at why the human does not have an ostrich’s much debated bury-head-in-sand ability.
It would probably take you days to get over the damning revelation, which has proven to be harmless to everyone else but yourself. It will be life-threatening only if you make it so, but see: the world has yet to end, and neither has your relationship which was built based on the most mutual affections and perfect understanding for each other.
Ironically, I do not take well to my own advice.