It’s not me. It’s you.

Lately I’ve been getting a lot of Facebook friend requests. I’m fine with that because one can decide if they want to go down that rabbit hole of neurosis and embarrassing moments or just ignore and check out random videos. (I’m so not a football person but I found this fascinating.) Each time I get a request its kind of like someone saying “hey can we have a reunion right now and detail to each other how stupid we were and get over it and possibly fall in love because we’ve never talked before in the past 20 years but now we are and I’m like a telemarketer and haven’t met anyone in a while and I’m remembering that you may have had a semi crush on me… so are you hot or what?” But this one friend of mine, a girl, Facebook friended me and as we started talking she said “I didn’t think you’d want to talk with me because of what I did?” And I sat thinking for a minute wondering what did she do? Did she sleep with my boyfriend? Did she spread bad rumors about me? Was she the one who stole my copy of Q magazine with PJ Harvey, Tori Amos and Bjork on the cover? (Wait, no that was Jon. Yes Jon I still can’t get over that. It had all three of them on the cover Jon. All 3. Do you know how rare that is??? And it was an import. And you lost it.)

And I answer… in the words of Radiohead….. I have no idea what you are talking about.

We get to the very core of things and it turns out that she thought I was mad at her because of how beautiful she was and how great her life was.

Isn’t that just precious. (If you don’t know me already…that’s sarcasm when I say that). Of course this is the 35 year old in me talking. When I was 19… yeah I probably hated her guts because her parents bought her a Toyota Corolla and gave her a credit card so she could buy as many acid wash jeans and Penguin’s yogurt as her heart desired. I was selling Thighmasters at the swap meet in Orange County so I could pay my car insurance on my brown Datsun 200 SX. It looked liks this

1983 200SX Night in Port
Originally uploaded by Green-Ghost

You could say I was a touch bitter.

But I wrote back with honestly no hatred and anger: “I haven’t thought about you in either a positive or negative light in the past 16 years so really don’t worry about it.”

This kind of irked her. And she wrote on and on how she thought we were friends and what happened. Then she downloaded on me how she really missed our friendship and has cried about it many times. And I’m like wait who are you? And she’s like we’re friends? And I’m like um… can we just be Facebook friends and not “really talk.” I really would just prefer to know her through her uploaded pictures, the updates she makes to her romantic affiliations and what her answers were on the “25 Random Questions About Myself” questionnaire that seems to be taking off like fire. But no she’s sending messages. And she’s probably going to find this blog at some point and just unleash hell and fury on me and I’ll be like look. Stop it. You’re being weird now. Its not me. Its you.

Here. Listen to Radiohead and you’ll understand. Sigh.

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