Friday, July 10, 2009

Why I should never go on Facebook

Once upon a time, someone I thought I loved broke my heart. Not even a clean break, no line down the middle, no two halves easily glued back whole, but shattered in a million separate pieces. Once, I discovered that the same mouth can kiss you, tell you it loves you, and lie to you all at the same time. I learned that sometimes you can't know a person, even after a year and a half, that sometimes people are actors because they understand that better than they understand themselves. Once, I didn't know how I would recover, how I would ever love again, how I would ever trust again. I thought I might be broken forever. After it happened I went through every photo album I owned, every box of souvenirs, and got rid of all evidence that he had ever existed. I didn't just throw them away, I ripped them into a million separate pieces. He didn't deserve to be remembered, and I knew if I didn't see his face again for the rest of my life, it would still be too soon. But the past isn't so easily discarded, and going through a box of old photos yesterday, I found myself staring it in the face. It was a close up, just his head and shoulders, but I knew he was sitting on my old dorm room bed, and I knew he was holding my guitar, and all of a sudden I remembered everything. I remembered the way his eyes squinted when he smiled, the freckles on his arms, the way his arms felt when he held me, everything. And then I waited for it, the old, familiar anger, that impotent, indignant rage, but instead what I felt was...nothing. Meh, I shrugged, and put the picture back in the box. I found letters, too, professions of undying love and devotion, and I re-folded those equally calmly and placed them among the ticket stubs and birthday cards that I keep for reasons unknown even to myself. It wasn't even worth the drama of ripping them up and throwing them away, because they had no power over me any longer. They meant nothing more or less to me than a ripped ticket stub for the county agricultural fair circa 2001, and so I put the lid back on the box, and put the box back in the closet, where it will likely remain untouched for the next five to ten years.

But lest I become too proud of my relative non-insanity, fate/karma/whatever you want to call it had me curled up in a ball on my bed this afternoon, dripping tears all over my cell phone as I placed a frantic call to Talia. It started with Facebook (doesn't it always?) and involved a series of photos of him, my other ex, the one that I myself broke up with, but who I will probably always consider as the one who got away. And I am not even friends with this guy on Facebook, but I am friends with his sister and his dad, so click click and there you go. Anyway, the poison in question was a series of photos of him and a girl in their finest fancy wear doing some dip-heavy dance moves in some kind of ballroom or dance studio. This was followed by some cryptic commentary by friends and well-wishers leading me to believe that the couple in question may in fact be engaged. After some deep breathing in a paper bag and closer inspection obsessive re-reading of the text I realized that the comments could simply be good-natured ribbing of the hardy har har variety targeted at two friends who just happened to take a dance class together. But I will never know.

Damn you, Facebook. And damn you, ex-boyfriends, for having the nerve to go on living and being happy once we are no longer in your lives. It's just ever so monumentally oh so not fair.

4 comments:

  1. Ugh, I have totally been there!
    Even though you know that you no longer REALLY care for the ex, knowing that they are doing well (especially in the romance department, and especially when you yourself are single) is a sucker-punch to the gut.

    I have been there oh so many times, and though I don't know what the remedy is, I can definitely sympathize. I sometimes feel bad about being single at the ripe old age of 27, and wonder why, I am often unlucky in the game of love, though I am a career woman, who is attractive, intelligent, funny, and has got her shit together in all other aspects. Goddamit!!!

    All I can say is that you really should consider the numerous gifts that life has bestowed upon you in the first place. You lived in France! You have a hot body (yes, I scoped out those pics of you in the bikini, LOL)!! You have your health!! And last but not least, you are an incredible writer whose posts often leave me enraptured and make me wish that I read more so that I could possibly write as well as you when I grow up.

    'Tis all I have to say, (I am a frequent reader though I usually don't comment) but I felt moved to respond to your post.

    Cheers!!

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  2. you deserve all the good stuff more than that woman who ate pasta and prayed! i cant wait to see you soon...i'm convinced friends, rose and grapes and cheese can solve 99% of all bad facebook sightings.

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  3. Facebook is the WORST thing ever for this kind of situation. The sad thing is that we all can kind of relate in one way or another because it's happened to everyone. The weirdest thing to me is when you know bits of information about people that you haven't seen or talked to in what seems like three or four solid eras....and suddenly you're right there next to them in cyber space. It's a cliche, but it's truer than the color of the sun....it's all just a click away. Somehow we're all supposed to have this insanely colossal amount of self-control to stay away from these things.....but nobody can do it.

    Evidently, even having self-control doesn't work either because you seem to have cyber-stumbled right into this one. Chin up!

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  4. Ive totally been there, Done that and never again. Facebook can be good at times and bad like this situation. God knows how many times this has happened to me but now i dont care whats happened between me and my ex and i eventually moved on.

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