Have you caught on to the Facebook fever? If not, you are in luck... there are about four of you left on Earth. For the rest of us who do not mind having near strangers delve into our personal lives, we communicate via Facebook more than we do personal interaction. Facebook is a whole phenomena that I will tackle later, but for now, it is the platform itself that launches many into the atmospheric realm of delusion.
I met him in college, at the type of party that I care not to mention but is familiar (at least in description) to anyone who has set foot on a college campus. We would flirt, but nothing ever came our witty banter because we hailed from two different social groups. (Flashes of The Outsiders may have crossed your mind, but it was nothing so dramatic.) Time passed, and we both began our life journeys.
We ran into each other a couple of times five years after college. Our life journey had taken us on different paths, mine being divorced with child and his being unhappily married with children and drowning his sorrows with beer. Flirting commenced, but the ring on his finger posed as a road block for going down "that road." He moved, and we lost touch once more.
By accident, a few years later, I received word that he ring was gone and he was a free man. Free, in the marital sense. Yet unbeknownst to me, the baggage he lugged around weighted his soul down and made him a miserable man. Recognizing the tortured artist escaping to get out, and beguiled with his ability to participate in intelligent conversation, I was hooked. My mind said steer clear, but my heart knew I could fix him. Yes... I suffer from the "Need to Fix" syndrome that haunts my ability to love.
After many hours pondering the meaning of life by phone, we had a couple of rendevous in each of our respective towns. However, I discovered that he cared more about alcohol and revenge upon his ex than he ever did about me. (Which did not leave me worse for the wear, for I had also discovered that removing my rosy shades allowed me to see the truth.)
I admit, it is great reconnecting with old friends and lovers that were once lost to us. I will also admit, albeit with trepidation, that I have searched for every previous love interest that I pined for through the "Search for Friends" feature. Am I embarrassed? No, but I do feel a little twinge of pathetic. Many were easily found, and my hopes and dreams were confirmed that these individuals that did not end up being the loves of my life were doomed to a mundane and pitiful existence. (Dreams really DO come true.)
Do you remember the one guy in high school that you secretly crushed over but never had the confidence to approach? He (or she) might have smiled at you in the hallway... or given you the false hope that he wanted to secretly ravage your body behind the bleachers in the gym by simply asking if he could copy your trigonometry homework.
"Yes, you can borrow my homework," you sighed. But deep down you were screaming YES! I DO WANT TO BE YOUR NEXT CONQUEST!!! Sadly, graduation came and past without that magical moment ever coming to fruition.
With the inception of Facebook, once again you could find and lavish attention upon those you thought had become a part of your past. A simple "Add As Friend" request is all you need to rekindle the romance you were born to experience. Facebook is like winning the lottery over and over again. And here is where our woeful tale begins, like the first rat bite that fueled the Bubonic Plague in China in 1330.
I met him in college, at the type of party that I care not to mention but is familiar (at least in description) to anyone who has set foot on a college campus. We would flirt, but nothing ever came our witty banter because we hailed from two different social groups. (Flashes of The Outsiders may have crossed your mind, but it was nothing so dramatic.) Time passed, and we both began our life journeys.
We ran into each other a couple of times five years after college. Our life journey had taken us on different paths, mine being divorced with child and his being unhappily married with children and drowning his sorrows with beer. Flirting commenced, but the ring on his finger posed as a road block for going down "that road." He moved, and we lost touch once more.
By accident, a few years later, I received word that he ring was gone and he was a free man. Free, in the marital sense. Yet unbeknownst to me, the baggage he lugged around weighted his soul down and made him a miserable man. Recognizing the tortured artist escaping to get out, and beguiled with his ability to participate in intelligent conversation, I was hooked. My mind said steer clear, but my heart knew I could fix him. Yes... I suffer from the "Need to Fix" syndrome that haunts my ability to love.
After many hours pondering the meaning of life by phone, we had a couple of rendevous in each of our respective towns. However, I discovered that he cared more about alcohol and revenge upon his ex than he ever did about me. (Which did not leave me worse for the wear, for I had also discovered that removing my rosy shades allowed me to see the truth.)
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