Moscow Rule 5 - Go With the Flow, Blend In

Charlotte goes with the flow. I go with the flow. We are all flowing.

No one is rattling anyone else’s cages. At least not noticeably.

Mom has widened the path of destruction to include people from other states. She’s infiltrated the Sunshine State to complain to her friend Leona about me. Leona has known me since childhood, and frankly, the last time Mom and I saw Leona, Leona looked at me a few times like “Aren’t you going to throw a bag over her head and race on over to the local Looney Bin? This woman has clearly lost her grasp on reality!” So Leona, who is pretty level headed and open minded, and not about to be loyal to anyone for loyalty’s sake, is not a threat to me. It is just a little sad that Mom has gone to such great lengths to rally troops for her cause.

I have begun to care less and less.

I have a fabulous new Someone.

The fabulous date from days before? Him!

OK – maybe it isn’t entirely truthful to say he’s new. He’s new again. The truth is I went to High School with him.

Before you roll your eyes, and I know that you are, I am well aware of the fact that I am supposed to be meeting NEW people. As in shiny, unbeknownst-to-me-prior-to-this-day people. I get that. If I keep repeating the same dates I will doom myself to repeating the same mistakes.

J. was someone I new from childhood. And while that was largely a lovely experience, it was eventually doomed to failure. Poof. Up in smoke. Flamed out.

And Casey was someone I met in Junior High School. Had potential from the start. But since it was clear that he was still the adolescent I’d known in 7th grade, and sealed the deal with breath that could shatter glass, that blew up in no time. Boom. Gas Bomb. Incinerated my face off.

Third time’s a charm?

Scott was The Guy in High School. Adorable. Different. Not a jerk. Dated lots of people. Offended no one. OK, it's a good bet that the people he unceremoniously dumped were offended at first, I am sure. I know. I was one. Maybe it’s unfair to say it was unceremonious. I am not sure 5 or 6 dates requires much ceremony. Anyway, he did what any 17 year old with women throwing themselves at him should do. He tried a lot on for size.

He tried me on twice. Once in the beginning of my sophomore year when I had the good fortune to be in the drill team formation which lined up on the field just behind the trumpet line he was in. I got to stare at Scott’s rear view for a good 20 yards at the beginning of every halftime show. He was handsome. Handsome enough that I could ignore the dorky spats and Royal Order of Buffalos Grand Poobah hat. He smiled a lot. He was funny. He was cool in a way that was neither too Star Athlete Snobby nor too Burnout Troublemaker Morose. He had a cool car.

And he liked me.

And as soon as that cat was out of the proverbial bag, women of all shapes and sizes flocked to my side to be my friend because I momentarily had his attention. It was daunting. I was in over my head. I liked him a lot but was panicked about how in the world I would ever keep him with all the high drama. Put him in a pumpkin shell? When he moved on to the next girl I was heartbroken in my 15 year old way, but in some ways relieved. I was not equipped for a social crisis. I could barely dress myself.

We'd become friends and we stayed friends.

We had a few more dates late in my sophomore year before he met another girl and took her to prom. Even then, my Sweet 16 self was still not equipped for the social crisis. The other girl had her hands full with all the other girls suddenly trying to be her friend just to occupy the same space with her boyfriend.

He's a good guy. We’d stay friends.

And we did. For a while. And then college and careers and other loves moved the friendship from the top of the priority list for both of us. He’d resurface in my life every so often. And I would resurface in his. At the beach. At a party. He was still special in a way that set him apart from other guys his age, but my life and his were spinning in different directions. Who knew what the other was thinking?

We each got married. We each had kids. We both lost track of one another. We both divorced. We both attempted to alternately rejuvenate and wreck our lives a few times. Decades flew by.

And then, Facebook happened. God bless Mark Zuckerberg and his penchant for making things that help people connect and share what’s important to them. This was his finest hour.