The Other Side of Facebook

Here’s an exercise in irony. I started a random flirtation with a girl recently. I didn’t recognize her to save my life. Well, guess what? Turns out she was a cheerleader I knew in high school. Better yet, she was at one of my childhood birthday parties. You gotta be kidding me! I didn’t realize it ‘til she asked me, “Do you remember me? You don’t do you.” It took me a second, and then it hit my. OMG! Yup, it was the cheerleader. I’m bad with faces, what can I say?

Back in the day, she was the biatch that everyone hated in high school. Maybe it was her bad ass Jersey Chick attitude, or hmmm I dunno. Self-inflicted, deserved or not, she had a stigma that probably raised her stock, but left her on an island all the same. She was a “Rich Girl”, a “Daddy’s Girl”, but I’d lost touch with her after junior high, and I never really paid attention to the TMZ type of rumors people like to spread. She was kinda a stranger to me, but why lie? The “Cheerleader from Back in the Day” thing was hot. I’m a guy, sue me!

We kept in touch, and a little emailing ensued. Our main medium of connection became Facebook. The Facebook thing is dangerous, but in a good way. Its voyeurism mixed with a healthy dose of reconnecting, along with one part staying connected, and two parts flirtation. The back and forth was sweet. We mixed in the occasional Instant Message, and a Text and a Phone call was the cherry on top.
Things went swimmingly such that I asked her out to coffee. That’s the next logical step. Starbucks here we come! We meet, and it’s her, in the flesh. Well, a lot more flesh, and silicone, and a little botox. Very porn star, but nobody was complaining. Nope, no complaints here. Crazy!

The connection was instant and the conversation flowing, like a glass of cheap Zinfandel. Yeah, I invoked the Zinfandel imagery. Kinda sets the tone. Okay, I’m kidding it wasn’t that bad. It was actually pretty good, until she hit me with something I wasn’t expecting. “You know, there must be something so special about you, because I remember you.” I thought to myself, “Awww how sweet,” until she chimed in, “No, you don’t understand. I don’t remember a lot of things anymore.”

Here’s where she laid some heavy stuff on me. Turns out she had undergone ECT aka Electroconvulsive Therapy. That’s when they basically hook a car battery up to your head and buzz you with 10,000 volts. Pretty messed up, and wildly aggressive “therapy”. I am not sure how many people it helps, but surely it’s a last resort for most people and practitioners alike.

Now I am in an interesting moment. I am both flattered and weirded out. Not sure which one I want to go with in this instance. Nevertheless, we continued to connect. I told her how she always looked distant, but she wanted someone to talk to her back in high school. I wish I had gone over and said something. No, these weren’t lines. It breaks my heart to know how much she had been through.

We venture out into the parking lot to say our goodbyes, but the conversation continues up close and personal, until finally she kisses me. I won’t say it was spectacular, but there were sparks, enough such that any nearby gasoline canisters would have lit on fire. She asked me what I was doing after this. I said I wasn’t too sure. Mind you, that’s the open ended answer you give while you give a girl the opening to see where this is headed. She asks me if I want to come back to her place. I won’t waste your time asking what you think I did next.

We are at her place. It’s fancy as you can imagine. A huge apartment wish gorgeous crown moldings, wood floors throughout, big screen, fireplace, and a bed fit for a queen. I’m impressed, and I usually don’t impress easily. She offers me a drink. I kindly oblige. She then rifles through a pharmacy worth of prescription drug bottles on her kitchen counter top. Not a common occurrence, but a disturbing sign nonetheless. I ask her if everything is okay. She nods yes. She serves me drinks in the living room, but asks me to give her a second while she takes her medications. Hey, ECT was enough of a shocker (yes, I am being ironic), but meds are to be expected. Still, I wasn’t sure how to react. I have dated enough girls that were trouble. I make no judgements, but this was a lot coming at me like a freight train.

She looks troubled. She tells me she is missing some medication, that needs to be picked up from the pharmacy a block away. She asks, and I agree to pickup the meds. However, before I go, she has one more question for me. “Come here!” She pulls me into her bedroom and leads me to the walk in closet. “Pick out an outfit you want to see me in.”

Flashback to Facebook for a second. Every girl on Facebook wants to show her fun, party side. It’s not as bad as the self-aggrandizing days of Myspace, but every girl has some choice moments she likes to show off. As we know from the news, it’s gotten many people in trouble, and probably cost a few jobs. I digress. The point I was getting at was that I had seen an outfit or two that had put my jaw on the ground.

“I’d love to see you in this, with these heels.” She was impressed. “You know I was wearing this same dress to a party recently. You have good taste.” She sent me off, and told me to hurry back. Always eager to follow instructions, I did as I was told.

When I got back, she called me to the bedroom. She was there, leaning against the bed post, and I nearly lost my mind. “Wow!” That’s about all I could muster. She replied, “Well? Are you going to do something about this?” Let’s say she lived up to her wilder side. My God, the things that came out of her mouth. She was cruel to the point I wasn’t sure if it was a game or now. She was definitely the finger nails down the back kind. I got marked up pretty bad. Once again, I won’t complain.

Believe it or not, she transformed afterwards into a girl in sweats, who wanted to watch TV, hang out, and talk. It was confusing, but in a good way. From buck wild to simple and sweet. Very unexpected.