When I first moved to Boston I hadn’t really dated much at all. I was living in a new city but finding it a bit hard. It was a very lonely time. After a particularly depressing Fourth of July that I spent alone at home, watching fireworks on the TV, I decided it was time to take the plunge into Match-land. Oh, Match. You were good for my ego but so, so bad for providing me with anything close to a viable option.
My first foray into Match-making didn’t end so well… I had agreed to meet up with B, an Indian dude whom I’d spoken to once or twice on the phone. His pictures seemed cute and he had a bulldog with him in one picture. I figured he deserved a shot on the basis of the bulldog, at the very least. (What can I say, I’m a sucker for their old-men jowls and scowls). I had dressed up with anticipation, and had even gone so far as to blow dry and straighten my hair (this was August, people– this was a HUGE deal). B called me 1 hr before our date and told me he wanted to bring his roomie. I was already nervous about meeting B, and this pretty much put an end to things. When he couldn’t understand why I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of meeting his roomie, I told B not to expect to see me that night.
So there I was, all decked out with straight hair and everything, and no place to go. How disappointing! EXCEPT…. I had also been talking with R (aka Loser Boy) through Gmail chat for a week or so. He’d called me that very same afternoon and wanted to know what I was doing that night. I’d already had plans with B, so I had told him I was busy. Hmm… I wonder if he’s still up for doing something… I gave R a call and lo and behold, he was still in the city. So in a short time there he was, pulling up to my doorway in his beat-up Saab. We spent a few hours in the local bar chatting, and had a great time. I got a call the very next morning and we set up a second date. Everything seemed to be going well…
That is, until R completely freaked out and essentially canceled our second date, then dumped me over email. But wanted to stay friends. And imed me every day, multiple times a day, to the point that if I wanted to check my email I would quickly sign out of gmail chat before he could see my active status. It was a little frustrating, since I had really liked him a lot. But at the same time, I was very busy too and I decided it might be nice if we could develop a friendship. So over the next three months, we talked regularly. Over this time period, R started indicating that he would like to try again (in terms of dating), and we set up some times to hang out. Every time we tried to do something together, he would cancel last minute, or something would come up, or he’d get sick. I got sick myself of the game-playing this boy was doing. I decided that the best thing to do would be to block him and stop talking to him.
The very next day I got a phone call from R. He apologized for being so wishy-washy and asked if he could take me out to a movie that weekend. I told him that would be great, but ONLY if he actually lived up to his promise and planned something definite. He assured me he would.
I’m sure we can all see where this story is going. To wrap things up, he told me he’d pick me up on Sunday at 4 pm. 4 pm came and went, and no boy, no call, no show. I. Was. Livid. He called and left a message several hours later, but I ignored it. He tried iming once or twice after that as well, but never bothered to apologize. I blocked him and never heard from him again.
That is, until two weeks ago! I opened up my email to find a friend request from Facebook. “Loser Boy” wants to be your friend, the email informed me. The name sounded so familiar, but I couldn’t remember who this person was. “Loser Boy,” “Loser Boy,” I thought to myself…. I clicked on the link and brought up his profile. IT WAS HIM!!!! Two years later. Wanting to friend me. Oh my god, did I pick an appropriate nickname for this guy or what?
I think we all know what the lesson is here. It’s perfectly fine to Facebook stalk people you know only in passing. But don’t try and friend them. ‘Cause you’ll just get your ass ignored, and laughed about.