Dia dos Namorados

Pra mim, sempre foi um mistério que alguém, num dia como o de hoje, fique choramingando pelos cantos por não ter ao lado um(a) pombinho(a). Sofrer de amor pela perda do(a) amado(a)? Tão misterioso quanto.


Eis que, relendo um livro de P. G. Wodehouse, deparo com um trecho oportuno, verdadeiro bálsamo pra quem leva esse tipo de coisa a sério. Nele, Reggie, o narrador, reencontra sua ex-namorada, anos depois. Compartilhando com vocês (texto original: livro sem tradução para o português).

‘Well, fancy meeting you here, Reggie!’

I saw this was the right attitude. After all, the dead past is the dead past. I mean to say, the heavy stuff was over between us. At the time when she had severed relations, the thing had, of course, stuck the gaff into me to quite a goodish extent. I won’t say that I had not been able to sleep or touch food, because I’ve always slept like a log and taken my three square a day, and not even this tragedy could break the habit of a lifetime, but I certainly had felt a bit caught in the machinery. Sombre, if you know what I mean, and unsettled, and rather inclined to read Portuguese Love Sonnets and smoke too much. But I had got over all that ages ago, and we could now meet on a calm, friendly footing.

Laughing Gas, de P. G. Wodehouse, Penguin Books, 1936.