Who’s Your Pal?

So yes, I reluctantly admit it. Scott found me on Facebook. Like a teenager. I’d been home from my rock star trip with my gal pals for a few weeks, had gotten a new smart phone, and had downloaded FB to it so I would not have to take a number to use my own laptop at home to stay in touch. And FB at work is strictly forbidden, natch. (I can see why – it is the cyber equivalent of yakking all day in the break room.) And for a few weeks, I’d gotten sporadic messages from Alejandro. Just enough to keep me from forgetting his name entirely. Some were encouraging, though marginally so. Most were about football. (What?) But it was the holidays and I was enjoying the attention when I got it. So an FB message was something I looked forward to. Searched for clues in. Was intrigued by. It was nice to entertain the idea of getting to know someone brand spanking new who was too far away and too self respecting to smother me. And who didn’t have breath you could use to remove your bathtub ring. And one night as I plugged in my (battery hostile) phone so I could charge and get on my treadmill to pre-emptively whack off a few pounds in advance of the Cookie Overeating season, it was Alejandro who I thought was messaging me. It was not. It was Scott sending me a Friend Request Message. The modern day version of getting out your Rolodex and calling the last number you had on file for someone. Only better. And when I saw it, I thought “How NICE! After all this time! Of course I’ll be his friend.” And accepted the request, plugged in the little battery draining thing and ran on the treadmill until my iPod battery died at about 2.2 miles (or roughly 3.5 Fudge Crunchies) And all the while, I wondered about Scott. Last I’d known he been married. And had two girls. Where was he living? What did he do? How many kids did he end up with and did he have a boy just like himself? I tried to remember the last time I’d seen him. It may have been at a Christmas party. I might have been pregnant. Or maybe his wife was. I don’t know. A long time ago. I got off the treadmill, all rubbery and drenched in sweat (yes, after only 2.2 miles!) and returned to my phone. Nothing new on FB – but 2 emails from Scott! And thus began a familiar dance – sometime graceful, sometimes not. The dance that is poking around for intel on someone you think you might like without giving away too much. You ask a question that might lead to oversharing information – the information that you are actually looking for. You say something – and then feel the need to clarify – but not sound like you are clarifying. Exhausting. And worse, it was by email. Painfully edited, written and re-written emails that probably did more to confuse anyone than not. But we exchanged facts…facts not readily available on Facebook. Like our statuses…since when you are not 20 it is no one’s GD business how complicated my love life is. Or whether I have one, thank you very much. We made plans to talk on the phone. Exchanged numbers. After all these years, I would hear his voice.