Soppy and its opposite.

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<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sentimental/”>Sentimental</a&gt;

Guys, I ‘m a sucker for sentimentality as much as the next woman but good sense prevails in the end. Phew.Let’s keep complicated ,unfathomable self- sacrifices involving personal choices for old Hollywood movies and Bronte spinsterhood.We are in the 2ist century, after all and let’s act like it.
Also, never look up old flames on Facebook unless you want to be the talk of the town.How’s that? Let me explain what happened to me as an example to avoid!
I look up or (more to the point) sneak on various people of both sexes from the past who normally stay in the past unless you have a computer mouse in your hand until I remember a ghost from this tale-spinnin’ truth twistin’ memory maize called a past.. I google his name several times and I get nothing. I google some more and it throws a published playwright , a teenager and a would-be monk.
Antonio, yes that’s his name, was devoured by the Italian countryside 28 years ago to the day-last October 22!Could he be made to rise from the dead?! I locate an old address book and google Alatri. Yeah it’s an Italian village, his! Sure enough a myriad photos of a stud with shaved head and ageless allure, not forgetting rugged masculinity appears on all social media. I peak at the pics…no kids. I look at the Italian senora. She is full of smiles..no kids either.
He remembers me. He remembers. He is not angry I didn’t elope.Judging’ by the summary of the 3 decades he tells me nobody else wanted to elope to the Italian Timbuktu either until he met this woman in Rome and he commutes one and a half hours to be with her. He didn’t want bambini, being a bambino himself. Still lives with mamma mia. Cliche that suits an eternal Alpha bachelor.An Italian Romeo.
I write the story and send it to the TV magazine that everybody reads. 200K people to be precise. I pretend I was madly in love, peppering the text with happiness is a larger than life Italian persona in a cheap hostel room stuff blah blah who loves his village first, his secure municipal post second and his mamma third.
Everybody believes it’s the most romantic story ever written and acquaintances who recognize me from the details that I reveal accidentally rebuke me for not migrating to nowhere much in the Italian highlands which has 913 inhabitants. They look frustrated for me for turning down the offer to bottle tomatoes for winter to pass the time.
Reader, I didn’t go. As it turns out he is an Alpha who imposed the no children rule on his Italian wife without dialogue. I’ll take the beta male every time! A guy who interacts plus compromises and agrees on fathering the 3 kids 2 girls one boy I was planning on havin!!

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