I guess some things were meant to be...

Tonight, while minding my own business, I received a notification that I had a FB friend request from someone from a past life - college days to be exact. I accepted the request for two reasons - one, we had been so close at one point in our lives it just seemed rude not to and two, to be completely honest, curiosity got the best of me. About him and our "mutual acquaintances."

For anyone that knew me in college, I'm sorry. I'll start with that. My sincere apologies. I was a certified a$$hole. Had there been a salary cap on being the biggest a$$ in all of Northern Virginia, I'd probably have maxed out and still negotiated more on my contract. Aside from losing whatever meager softball career I had left, I dated a jerk. Oftentimes I think about why I'm still single at 29. I'm not saying it's a bad thing or my life is ruined because I'm single, but I think back to all the things that got me to where I am, relationship-wise. I think back to where my trust issues stem from and I'm taken back to the days where he was in my life.

For anyone I've ever dated, I'm sorry. Something else I need to get out of the way. I know I haven't been the easiest person to date. Somehow that's probably in the running for understatement of the year, but I'm sorry and congrats for making it out alive.

My relationship resume probably looks a little like this: I'm pretty sure I doubted every word out of your mouth, thought you were lying about everything under the sun including the color of the sky, thought you were cheating on me with your ex-girlfriend or that skank you met at the bar, didn't believe you when you said your pager ran out of batteries, and worse. There's a reason for that - the first guy I ever really loved (in an adult, I think I can marry you and probably wouldn't abort our baby if we were ever dumb enough to get to that point) did all of that to me. And more. Much more. So needless to say, I'm not so trusting with guys. And it's not just that - I tend to get fixated on an issue and have an impossible time moving past it, and it's definitely hindered more than a few relationships from getting to the next level.

Before you get all crazy on the comments here, I get it - everyone has baggage. Once you reach your late twenties/early thirties, baggage is a prevailing part of the relationshipquation. That's not to say your suitors will all have baby mamas or prenups in the works, but emotional baggage is just as damning, I can assure you.

So back to my distressed and sorrowful college days with this guy. I was a disaster. That was probably when I first developed insomnia. There would be nights he wouldn't come home (while I was asleep in his twin bed upstairs in his parent's house while his little brother slept on the floor beside me, as weird as that may be), there'd be nights he would pocket dial me and I could hear things in the background. There'd be days he'd disappear and no one knew where he was. Not his job, not his family, and certainly not me, "the love of his life". So I'd stay up all night checking my Nokia razor flip phone incessantly waiting for his call. More than a few times this call ended up coming from the police station. I made myself sick waiting up to make sure he was OK. To make sure he was still alive. That he still loved me. That he didn't F.U.C.K another chick. His ex-girlfriend to be exact.

Aside from his lies, his extreme binge drinking (even for a college kid), bouts with drugs, financial struggles, and other problems, there was another constant problem in our relationship - his highschool sweetheart. After a year into our relationship, he transferred to a community college outside Virginia Tech, so we were forced to do long distance. If only I had listened to every single adult that long distance while in college was dumber than marrying Kim Kardashian on E!, this may not be an issue. But I didn't listen. So re-cue all those same alcohol, drug and lying problems, but add into the mix that I was now 4.5 hours away from my unstable boyfriend and his highschool sweetheart was just a mere 15 minutes away at a neighboring college.

I remember skipping some of the biggest sorority parties to either drive up and visit him or sit and talk to him on the phone (or more like wait for sporadic voicemails from him during his fraternity parties where the phone would always cut off as soon as I heard a girl's voice). I remember crying my eyes out because he didn't call for 3 days. His AOL Instant Messenger would change from idle yet he wouldn't respond to my messages. For days. Upon days. I'd have no clue if he was dead or alive, with or without herpes.

And then the phone calls started coming and the dirty away messages (you remember away messages on AIM, right?). His ex and I were in full-on he's mine bitch mode. (Seriously, watch that video as a short interlude.)

Whether she'll admit it or not, I'm finally adult enough to admit we were terrible to each other. Full on stalker mode. She left messages for my friends, and me hers. It became almost obsessive to destroy her than it did to mend my fleeting relationship with this guy. After basically foregoing any enjoyment my last two years in college because I was so upset and consumed with this misery, one day it all became crystal clear. He was in fact cheating on me. He had in fact turned two girls that had never met into two of the biggest enemies on the planet. You thought Robin Ventura and Nolan Ryan had a blood bath? You hadn't seen anything. I moved out from his parent's house (because yes girls, you can get cheated on even if you live with him and his parents) and wrestled with how to move on (which is what led me to move to Miami on a whim, but that's a different story). I was heartbroken and had trusted this guy who swore over and over and over that he loved me and he would never cheat on me. And to find out that every single gut instinct I had wasn't just a nightmare, but reality?

Every once in a while, I still battle with the what if questions. What if I had dated someone who truly loved me unconditionally and respected me during those primitive years? What if the moment I didn't trust him, I left instead of sitting through the pain? What if I had just told his so-called sweetheart she could have him? What if I was a better girlfriend and he never would have thought to cheat on me? What if I didn't quit my sorority because I had a controlling boyfriend?

Anyways, if I have any reader's left after this lengthy onslaught, let me get back to my actual point... The friend request brought all these thoughts and memories back. And low and behold while all this is swirling around in my head, I notice a photo of HER in a wedding gown.

And guess who the groom was?

.jl.

Things That Make Me Irate - Episode 2

Admittedly, there is a load of crap that comes along with Facebook that truly irritates me, but it's simply the nature of the beast of this thing they call social media. But there is one thing that people do on FB that actually gets me hot and bothered and causes me to "get irate" as my friends call it.

You know those overzealous Facebook-liker's? The kind that like every single status possible.

My grandmother just died and I'm so sad. [You like this.]

I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me and that bastard gave me herpes. [You like this.]

I just got laid off after 20 years of hardwork and I can't pay my bills or put food on the table for my six kids. [You like this.]

I mean are these brainiacs actually reading the posts or are they in an Olympic-style competition to see how many statuses they can infiltrate in one day?

I recently posted this sad (but true) status: No fireworks. In the sky or my love life.

It was a holiday weekend so I wanted to ward off anything that would potentially make me irate so I posted this caveat as part of the status: (and hey, overzealous FB "likers", this is one of those statuses it's inappropriate to "like". got it?)

But really Facebook friends, what is likable about "no fireworks in my love life" or the fact that someone just got herpes or they lost their grandmother (notably, not due to herpes)? I must know the answer to your rapid-fire liking of every damn status update. Anyone care to wager in on this?

.jl.

A senile old woman on social media is about as appropriate as Michael Vick being a dog walker.

Last night I received a message on Facebook that I thought was spam or an accident. It was from a woman 50+ and the subject said “yea you ---- keep it to yourself”. I messaged her back and asked if I was the lucky recipient of some awkward spam or if that was meant for me. Apparently even at an age headed straight for senility in Velcro tennis shoes, passive aggressive is still alive and well.

So I thought I’d take a minute and school Betty White’s Great Grandma on social media. For starters, don’t tell me or anyone to mind our own business when something is posted on FB or any other social media site. NEWSFLASH- Anything on the Internet IS my business. Maybe next time you should try a little handwritten note that Paul Revere can deliver for you via horseback to help ensure your privacy.

For the second day in a row I shall consult Urban Dictionary, one of my favorite online resources. This family friendly reliable source defines Social Media as “participatory online media that utilizes the group to write and direct content, rather than a read-only media. Allows for direct contact between participants.” By publicly posting something, you are not only allowing me to see it, but comment on it. This is reason number 54,683 why people over 50 should NOT be on social media (unless they are reasonable and educated enough to understand the purpose for it as well as the ramifications of posting).

(On a serious note, I Google imaged “Michael Vick walking a dog” and came across photos of dogs after they had been through dogfights and it made me sick to my stomach. Michael Vick – I couldn’t stand you from the first second I met you at VT recruitment and my disdain for you has continued to grow, especially now that you play on MY football team. My heart goes out to every little animal that has ever been victim to these dogfights and I will kick every person I come across in the balls that has ever supported/been part of dogfighting. We share the planet with some sick individuals. Give back by visiting the American Society for the Prevention of Animal Cruelty.)

.jl.