Friday, May 6, 2011
(Apparently) I Get Around
So, this afternoon I got off work early. Having not stared at a computer screen for the seven and a half hours a day it usually takes to recharge my internet battery, I sat down to an "X-Files" rerun and my laptop. I'd gotten a Facebook friend request while I was at a work picnic earlier in the day and since I own a Blackberry and it's lame, I couldn't see the requester's picture. Sometimes my overly socialized brain forgets names until I see the face and then my memory comes flying back to me. Apparently, I'm a visual person.
I opened Facebook and didn't recognize the name or the picture. He was local though, coincidentally close to Mr. Affair's hometown and the same location as Mr. Gunslinger. Keep that in mind. Naively figuring that I'd probably met him before and just didn't remember where (sometimes I meet people at work conferences who find me online later and quite frankly, I've completely forgotten how I know them), I accepted his friend request so that I could see his page.
His privacy settings were so high that I couldn't send him a message before I accepted his friend request or even afterwards. I perused his photos and still nothing rang a bell. He didn't look scary and was listed as being in a relationship, so I figured there was no harm in sending him a chat message since he was online.
Totally putting the blame on myself, I wrote to him politely asking if we knew each other, stating that I had a horrible memory and had received his friend request today. He immediately started typing. "Ya... we know each other" was his unhelpful response. "Help me out," I replied, adding a smiley face to seem less confrontational. You know, because emoticons fix everything. I thought maybe this was one of the gentlemen I met a few months ago who had approached my friends and me with Mr. Gunslinger. His location was right, and he kind of resembled one of them. "We dated," he stated. Uh... no we didn't and not Mr. Gunslinger's friend. Being the perpetual wallflower that I've been through most of my adult (and hell, even teenage) life, I am well aware of every single one of the men (or boys) I've dated. Doubting that? Don't. I can give you a complete list in chronological order, just ask. First and last name. Even where they live currently and who they're married to (because they're all married or have been married). The list is that short, people.
Really? Really. In less than two weeks, I've been propositioned for and accused of having sex with complete strangers. It's just got to be uphill from here.