Maybe I Don’t Want Your Face in my Book

I may or may not be on certain social networking sites. Well, okay, obviously I’m on Facebook as is alluded to in the previous post. Facebook is a great (note sarcasm) way of staying in touch with those who are, or were, important to you. Oh yes, I’m friends with all sorts of people from my past and present – J, BJ, W, my first love (who I may have to give an initial to if I keep talking about him), not to mention a host of church friends and old high school friends, and even a relative or two.

As someone who is used to hiding behind the persona of Trueself (TS) both here and on Twitter, it is a bit unnerving to be on Facebook with real live people from my real live life. I am used to my virtual life being, for the most part, separate and distinct from my real life. There are some exceptions where I’ve allowed some people from my virtual life into my real life. There have been no exceptions where I’ve let anyone from my real life into my virtual life. So to state the obvious there has only been a one way exchange between virtual and real. If you can stand me in my virtual life then it is pretty obvious to me you can stand me in real life. It doesn’t necessarily hold true the other way.

Wait, that last paragraph kind of went askew from what I really wanted to talk about here today. What I started to say, but then didn’t, is that as someone who lived online incognito for a long time it has taken some getting used to being my real self (vs my true self, heh, heh) online when on Facebook. Sometimes I post something that as TS I could say without a second thought. Then I realize, OOOPS, this is IRL me not TrueSelf me, and I go back and delete the posting. I’m getting better at catching myself before actually posting those types of things, but it still happens rarely.

Once again, that last paragraph sort of went where I wanted it to but not quite.  I'm still skirting around the issue of the day (or actually of yesterday since I had to stop writing smack in the middle of this post and come back to it) because, well, because it means admitting I've done something stupid.  Not that there is anything novel in that.  I do stupid things all the time and post them on here.  I just somehow feel extra stupid on this one.  This one is all about taking chances and putting blinders on to the fact that I'm taking chances.

 

Okay, so this is totally and completely my fault and my responsibility.  Oh sure, J may hold some culpability also, but I am willing to own my share of the blame here.  On Monday I sent a V-word message to J via Facebook. I told him Happy V-word Day and how much I love and miss him. I didn’t post it to his wall or anything.  I sent it as a message to him.  He and I have exchanged messages before in that same way.  Also, yesterday I replied to an email he had sent me on Sunday.  In it I asked him about firming up plans to get together sometime in the fairly near future.  Although no specific activities were mentioned one might have been able to read between the lines and get the idea that perhaps some intimacy would be involved if one were so inclined to read it that way.

A couple of hours after yesterday’s email was sent I got a friend request on Facebook. . . a friend request from, of all people who have Facebook accounts in the world, J’s current wife. There was no accompanying message, just a simple friend request.


Now, I very well may be overreacting (Who? Me? Overreact? Surely you jest!), but my first thought went to her having seen my Facebook message and/or email message to J. I wove a scenario in my head that he left his computer vulnerable (not signed out of Facebook and/or email maybe) and that she, being that she is unemployed and with plenty of time on her hands according to J, had been looking at his stuff, found my messages and now wanted to friend me to check me out before deciding on a course of action, which would probably in the future include doing things (well deserved things I might add) to ruin my life.

I’m sure what little color I have (palest human on earth, remember?) drained from my face as I ruminated on what I’m certain will befall me soon. I envision nastiness about me being posted on Facebook by her. I envision her making her best efforts to cause me discomfort with my family, friends, and colleagues, all of whom could easily read any postings she might put up on my Facebook wall. I envision me being mortified over the whole thing and losing the respect of many, many people who mean a great deal to me.

I tell you all of this as a cautionary tale. Don’t be stupid. Of course, there is plenty of stupid to go around. We see politicians and celebrities wallow in stupid all the freakin’ time. We watch as their lives implode quite publicly when they get caught up in these sorts of things. They suffer from nationwide and even worldwide embarrassment and humiliation. At least for me if it comes to it mine will be of a much smaller scope, and maybe I won’t have to resign or hold a press conference to apologize or go to rehab for my supposed sex addiction. Yet it could still be ugly – very, very ugly – and hurtful to me and those close to me, and it would be all my fault. So don’t do it. Don’t be stupid. Don’t take for granted what you have and what you don’t want to lose. Don’t risk it for stupid.

Even if nothing comes of this. . . Even if she just sent a friend request because she likes to friend all of J’s Facebook friends. . . Even if this ends up being no big deal. . . Even if. . . Then I lucked out, and I still need to heed my cautionary tale. I need to step back and reevaluate and decide how much I am willing to risk for stupid.

In the meantime, I’m still contemplating whether to accept or decline her friend request.

Creating Something from Nothing

Okay, so if you have read much of this blog you pretty well know that I can blow a little thing way the freaking heck out of proportion. It’s what I do. It’s how I survive the boring, humdrum life that I have. I rant and ramble about one man or another constantly and how they are total scum and unworthy of fabulous me, and then I turn right around and completely throw myself at them with oh how much I love them and need them and yada, yada, yada. Well, you know the drill if you’ve been here a while, and if you haven’t well then be grateful that I just gave you the Cliff Notes version (Do people still use Cliff Notes? I don’t know because it has been an awfully long time since I was forced to take a test on a book I had no desire to read.) so that you don’t have to wander back through the annals of this blog to see it for yourself. (Although if you want to see it for yourself it is a bit like a train wreck – horrifying and yet somehow you just can’t look away – so be warned and head on back into the deepest darkest archives.)

And just as an aside from the main point of this post (which we’ll get to in a bit so just hang on with me here), notice that in spite of my unfailing claims to being bi I am constantly and forever obsessing over men. Rarely do I have real world relationships of a certain kind with women. It is not that I am at all against them. It is not that I don’t have female objects of my affection. It’s just that I am absolutely horridly clumsy in my approach to the same gender. I have darned near come to the conclusion that women just aren’t worth the trouble, and men are just so darned easy. (Sorry men if that offends you, but really, you do tend to think a lot below the belt instead of above, and it does make you pretty easy pickin’s. Women on the other hand are a difficult bunch of bitches. How straight men without oodles of money ever find a woman is beyond me. I fist bump you for your prowess poor but honorable men with good women.)

But back to the story at hand, ahem, what was it again? Oh yes. The dastardly V-word has jumped up and slapped me upside the head with something (which is probably totally and completely nothing at all) from left field. A boyfriend from high school, the very first boy I ever loved (no not J, he was the second boy I ever loved, but if you want to know more about this one go here) posted a message on my Facebook page this morning. It was a simple message really, just “Happy V-word Day to my first kiss!” (Only he used the real V-word, not “V-word”, got it?)

My first instinct was to comment back with some sort of witty sarcastic reply. I paused though and chose instead to post a simple “Thank you!” back. Throughout the day the thought that I should have tacked on a “Happy V-word Day to you too!” or perhaps “Happy V-word Day to my first love!” or some such thing ran through my head. But I didn’t because once the original thanks was out there it seemed too much to go back to post a second thing, that it might make me look [insert derogatory word of choice here, such as needy, pathetic, or stupid just to name a few to get you started].

So now I turn to you, wise and wonderful invisible internet friends. What do you think? Is this an opening gambit by him to me? Was this just a totally and completely innocent post by him to a friend? (BTW, I went to his Facebook page and saw that he only posted on one other person’s wall in the last 24 hours and that it was completely unrelated to V-word Day so it wasn’t like he was going around posting V-word Day greetings on lots of friends’ pages.) Do I go anywhere else with this, like sending out a feeler of some sort to him to test the waters of whether there is something more there? Do I just count it as one of those random things that means absolutely nothing? Why, dear readers, did he post this thing to me? Why, oh why, did he stir me up so?

Why? Why? Why?

Oh how I hate V-word Day.

Random Weirdness in My Brain

• Do you ever find yourself really pissed off when the computer tells you the password you entered is wrong? I do. I think to myself, “Look here, you stupid effing computer. I’m the one that made up that password. I know that password. Who are you to be telling me it’s wrong?” Then I enter it again, this time with no typos, and I realize that my anger may have been somewhat misplaced and perhaps just a tiny bit exaggerated for the situation.
• Snow is totally and completely nasty awful stuff. Do NOT in the comments tell me how much you like snow. Anyone who tells me how much they like snow is liable to get a big old dump truck full of the gray slushy mess from the edge of my street dumped in their front lawn. You’re welcome.
• I have discovered the absolutely all time best blog ever at Hyperbole and a Half. Seriously, you must go and read the blog from the beginning. It is awesome. I’m only to the early part of 2010 so far (after reading a few current entries I had to go start at the beginning and work forward due to its enormous awesomeness), but trust me it is well worth reading. Go! Read! But only after you finish reading my poor measly excuse for a blog entry here.
• I am particularly not looking forward to the dreaded V-word this year. No, I do not want to be your V-word nor is there anyone I wish to ask to be my V-word. And yes, I do find it necessary to call it the V-word. It is offensive to me, every bit as offensive as some of those other letter-words out there.
• While at lunch today, a fairly tall man (maybe 6’4” or so) walked past me, and I had a visceral reaction to him that surprised me. I never realized just how physically attracted I am to really tall guys in general, but as I thought about it I realized that I am. I am really attracted to tall guys, and by tall I mean somewhere around 6’2” and taller. Tall guys are just really very physically attractive and provoke something of a physical response in me that tells me my inner self thinks tall guys would be great with whom to procreate. No wonder I like basketball so much. It’s such a stimulating game.
• I’m pretty sure this blog entry could win the award for most superlatives ever used in one blog entry. Maybe not, but I’m pretty sure.
• Now that I’m in charge of a major committee at my church (yeah, just happened in the last few weeks) I’m feeling a little less on-the-outside-looking-in than I have in the past, particularly since it was not a position I sought but rather one for which the pastor recommended me. She thought I would do well because it is an area where she could see that I have a passion, and I agree with her!
• W will be going into the hospital again in a little more than a week for another surgery. This one is not major and is for a niggling problem that has been there for a couple of years, but the surgeon didn’t want to operate until he (W not the surgeon) was in better health. Now he is in his best health in years so it’s time to take care of this issue. I’m not saying what it is because I don’t him to go Googling the issue and finding this. Anyway, he’ll be in the hospital for a few days, and I will have the house to myself (well, except N and TS2 will be there; maybe if I chloroform them, tie them up, and stick them in the little closet under the stairs for those few days. No? Not a good idea? Really? Darn. I’m really pretty much in one of my anti-social moods right now. Can you tell?).
• My birthday is only a little more than two months away. I’m working on the plans for the party. Are any of my blogger buddies coming? I’m holding it in Champaign, IL, exact venue still to be determined (my budget and I are not exactly in agreement at this point), but I’ve narrowed it down to a handful of possibilities. It’s the same weekend as the IL Marathon in case that’s something you’re interested in. You could totally run the marathon (or half marathon) earlier in the day then party all night with me! (Which of course made me starting singing this song in my head – “I wanna rock and roll all night. . . and party every day!” – which then led me to thinking how sad it is that Guitar Hero is no more and how 500 people are losing their jobs just because of that and how can one video game result in employment for 500 people? Yeah, that’s indicative of the random meanderings my mind is doing this afternoon. It isn’t pretty.)
• And what would a winter post be without a mention of my beloved Illini?  Yes, they are still beloved in spite of their erratic performance through the season.  When they are on, they are unbeatable.  When they are off, a good high school team could beat them.  Unfortunately, you just never know which team you're going to get for any given game.  If it weren't for the possibility of incarceration for being a scary and threatening stalker, I might just head down to Ubben for practice and try to knock some sense into them.  (Of course, they're all so tall they would probably just charm me right out of frustration and anger in no time and I'd be all nicey nice to them and that wouldn't accomplish anything and so I guess it's better if I just stay home and mind my own business.)
• In addition to winning Most Superlatives I believe this post is also eligible for Most Run On Sentences, and an honorable mention for Best Use of Parentheses in a Blog Post.  I'm truly honored to be recognized for so many fine achievements.