I want to find this picture in a shoebox in the attic twenty years from now and get all misty eyed about the note scrawled on the back: “We drove around kind of hungover and blazed and listened to Outkast until our headaches went away and then you took this of me at Waffle House”.
If you’re going to be sentimental, at least be sentimental about the right shit. Nobody wants to hear about that one time you hugged in the rain. The real nostalgic shit that you’ll really remember comes when you’re both kind of squirrelly and hungover and the room reeks of cheap wine the morning after. Ah, your 20’s are so fleeting.