Stalking Life Lessons
Personally, I don’t have a Facebook. I know, I know. You don’t know how many people have told me to get one…I’ve even had people threaten to make me one themselves… But anyway, I have refused for four years now, and I would like to remain in the non-facebook world. (Although one of my more kind friends did me a favor and put a picture of my boobs on there…oh how that tank top will never be seen the same…)
However, I am a professed Facebook stalker. Now, now, before you launch this picture of some chick rooting through her cousin’s best friend’s boyfriend’s niece’s baby pictures or whatever, let me make my case:
I don’t go on Facebook on any kind of regular basis. Usually it’s when I’m bored and too broke to buy music online.
Plus, I go primarily on the pages on my friends solely to download pictures they took of us all at the last shenanigan we concocted.
So, moving on… I was on it today, and spotted that one of my friends was talking to some guy I was mad for years ago. Yes, I did read their fascinating conversation about how working in fast food sucks, and yes, I did go on his profile. I haven’t seen him since…well, sort of since I’ve liked him.
If you really want to know, here’s our great story: I met him at school, where we had all but around two classes together. We got to know another, become friends, and I became infatuated. We flirted and flirted, while he went through relationship after relationship, and he lead me on like that for months. During this infatuation I had my one of my first bouts of depression, and so his rejection was magnified severely. Imagine standing at the altar with someone, and have them lift up your veil, say, “Whoops, uh pastor? Yeah, I object.” It was like that. Anyway, the moral of the story was that I learned to love myself and stop falling for such self-absorbed assholes. And then I switched schools. But that was just a coincidence.
Yeah, it’s a real great story, eh? Almost as exciting as that time I spent two hours cleaning the bathroom. But I actually do have a point in writing this, even if it is a lame one.
Looking at the older version of him today, a version I do not know, never encountered, I felt so disconnected from myself. Immediately I was years younger looking at him now, through the eyes of heart-break. And I don’t mean I never got over the guy, I did, but with anyone you have let close to you, it can feel so strange to see them and remember things like how they hurt you. He was just some dumb kid. I know I was definitely some dumb kid. I was wrong to put him on a pedestal and he was wrong to let me keep him there. We both were dumb and shouldn’t have been together anyway.
But man, why did I like him so much? I was crazy about him, I really was. I wanted to know everything about him, would hang on his every word. Every touch, every conversation was analyzed dozens of times. He seemed wonderful, and more than anything, I wanted someone wonderful to want me. So maybe I’d start believing I was wonderful.
But life doesn’t work like that. I know now that I set myself up for disappointment. He was just some guy, and no person’s opinion can replace your own opinion of yourself. So, it all just ended up being the cherry on top on the depression sundae that was my life.
And now I’m older and wiser and think that same haircut he has looks really dumb.
I guess what I’m saying, is no matter what, life is going to follow you around; the decisions you make don’t just disappear with time. Sometimes they even get clearer. I was a different person when I liked Mr. I-Am-So-Deep-And-Emotional, and looking at his profile I realized how completely happy I am being this person I am now, who likes someone for how they make her feel about herself, for how they always are there for her.
I also realized that having four different albums full of just pictures of yourself is just asking for a disfiguring car accident to happen. C’mon, no one needs to look at your face that much unless they treat your acne.
Posted on 09/13/2012, in All That "Love" Crap, People--The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, Who The Hell Am I? & Other Stuff You Ask Yourself and tagged Facebook, past relationships, rejection. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.