Facebook of Love - Updating the Status Quo
Face Book of Love?
Updating the Status Quo!
It was around August of 2009 and I, like many of my Facebook friends, had been introduced to the world wide web of digital addictions. What had started out as virtual farming fun… had turned into more serious roles of Mafia Mayhem and Treasure seeking Turmoil! Facebook had offered me the opportunity to find friends where none had existed before… a simulated reality that filled the emptiness of my actual life. And while I wish upon a thousand stars that I could have back the countless hours I wasted on these fantasies… it was here that I met him… and for that I will be ever grateful!
I don’t remember the exact day that he or I had somehow asked the other to be a “Facebook friend”… I do know it had to do with Mafia Wars (a game I no longer play) and I soon discovered that he played several other games I played as well. I knew this because his profile picture was prominent in my request box, and one that I rather looked forward to seeing each time I logged on.
The only “actual” thing I can equate this… our beginning… to would be perhaps seeing the friendly familiar face on the bus you ride to work each day… or the newsstand where you get your paper… The anticipation grew over the next few days or so… and I’ll admit to a mild form of profile stalk-er-y! I had to see a little bit more about this person that sent me pigs and trees and made me smile the kind of smile I hadn’t dared smile in such a long time.
I poked around his “interests” only to discover that I shared in his appreciation of several television shows and a few other interests. He wrote short and funny snippets about the “White Van Man” that made me snicker… and I almost felt guilty for being a bit snoopy… but it wasn’t as if I was acting too strangely. I’m sure lots of people check out other people before they actually speak or “chat” to them. I wasn’t reading anything he hadn’t put out there. This was all information he chose to share with those who could read his page. (I know… I’m not actually convinced either… but I’m trying to look as non-psycho as possible here.)
There were a few comments back and forth… mostly on that silly Yo’ Ville game… then came a few more comments… a bit bolder and in view of other friends. I was nervous to chat to him… as I’m sure he was to me. Such a simple thing in the grand scheme of it all… just to chat to someone… But it was more than that. I was more honest with him than I had even dared be with myself. I was not only an open book… I was an open book with no frills or thrills… just D! That’s all!
He had no expectations… nor did I. We were both two vessels who decided to take a jab at communication. He was a writer… I was a writer (of sorts) and I’ll admit to you… though I didn’t admit it to him… that I had to www.dictionary.com a few of the words he used in our correspondence. I even “Googled” a few things… just so I could keep up. Not something I’m particularly proud of… but I’ll admit it. He “concerned” me! He challenged me. He made me “think” about what I was writing and what I was saying. I’m not so haughty that I won’t face the fact that I’d “dumbed it down” with my partners in years past. And in all honesty… I cannot say whether it was out of necessity or out of my own ideas of my station in life. No matter the reason… it was how I worked… and it had always “worked” for me in the past. But this time… this time it was different.
Most of my “romantic involvements” have begun the same way. Me, center stage in some bar… scantily dressed and holding my own musically speaking. “He” sees me and is intrigued with my “musical talents”. Without sounding too obnoxious, I will say that it might be some sort of fantasy… dating the ‘Rock Star’ chick… however… ten AM (and not one goddamned minute before, please) brings Dani… this chick that has kids to take care of and Little League to be late for. What started off looking like a sweet life with “Gigs” and “Closing Time Parties”… fades into the smoke and hangovers… and is what it is… A JOB! Not just any job… one that takes place every Friday and Saturday from 9 – 2! Eventually, sitting alone, watching the band isn’t as much fun as being with someone on the dance floor when that slow song plays… Stars become people… usually seriously FLAWED people with lives and shit of their own to deal with. That’s when the song ends… and life begins. For a lot of people… that ain’t no kinda life… so they move on!
With each message back and forth… it became easier to talk about nothing at all… and still get lost in the moments we shared. I think there were times we both suspended our realities just enough to where it didn’t have to make sense or be sane. For those moments I spoke with him… I was free…
…I was in a “tav” or pub somewhere, sipping whiskey and fumbling the swizzle stick I had liberated from my Coke back… another senseless victim of my nervous straw chewing habit… while waiting for him to join me after work. He would appear in the doorway… flustered and complaining of the parking situation… and having to give someone a ride to some insignificant place… the exact location trailing off into the background. None of it would matter to me as I would be busy appearing aloof and unaware of his tardiness… even though I had checked the clock, my watch AND my cell phone every 30 seconds over the last 10 minutes. He would catch me glancing at my watch… chuckle an invented nervous laugh and tell me, “Have patience, darling. I wouldn’t forget you…”
He was always the first to snap it back to a safe altitude… and though I would fuss a bit at his need to be “real” and “keep my feet on the ground”… I would once again join the ranks of Earth walking pedestrian. Of course, my personal library of Austen, The Bronte’s and other such romance writers… as well as too many Humphrey Bogart movies could take a majority of credit for the setting of our “Meeting of the Minds” and the length of time I wished to tarry. I could hear his accent in the words that spilled across my screen... (And yes dearest… it is YOU who has the accent)
I’m not quite sure if it was curiosity on his part, or the continuous badgering on his co-workers’ part, he did tend to stress the desire to hear my voice… which is code for I need to know you’re not a guy! Something we had both joked about several times. We exchanged phone numbers and made a ‘date’ to finally speak.
