You’ve had amnesia for eight months now. You had an accident where your car went over a bridge. You were rescued by a lonely man named Arnold who you fell in love with as he nursed you back to health. He’s refused to help you reconnect with the life you had before you lost your memory. That’s been fine because you’re happy with him, but you still can’t help but wonder who you were really. Arnold doesn’t want to tell you because he’s scared you’ll leave.
“I researched it. The guy you were with before the accident was fucking hot. And you had a really great job. I don’t want you two to learn who you used to be. You’ll dump me so fast.”
You’ve explained to Arnold that there’s no way the guy you were with back then could win you back if he couldn’t even be bothered to find you and help you remember who he is and why you and he were an item. And a job’s just a job.
“No way,” Arnold says. “He’s way too hot. If he’s still into you I’ll be history.”
You badger him until he relents and gives you the address of the guy you don’t remember loving. You visit him and after brief pleasantries he’s inside of you. Feeling that, you remember everything, including that he is a well-respected economist and that you are the Vice President of the United States. Return to Washington and have them call off the search party and tell them to arrest Arnold for kidnapping someone really important. Then work on creating some smooth lines of communication in a fractious Congress.
Happy Remember Where You Came From Day!