Facebook Redux

So first we talked about why Facebook is the devil. Then we had the story about that Facebook bitch which further illustrated the point. And now I have yet more proof… the “Relationship Status” profile information.

How could one little field of stock profile information cause so much havok? Well let me tell you how.

When LC and I decided to get back together, I was perhaps a bit more enthusiastic than he was at the very beginning. And I remembered that the dreaded “Relationship Status” field on Facebook had been an issue for us in the past. Mostly because I wouldn’t change mine right away. So when we made our decision, I immediately went in and said I was in a relationship with him. Then I waited for him to confirm. And I waited…. and I waited…. and I waited. Well, I waited half a day at least. (What? I’m not a patient woman.)

Finally I just asked him if he’d checked his email. He said he’d seen it but he needed to talk to someone before he switched it over. Fair enough. Later that night he said his Facebook was just work friends anyway and he was just thinking he would keep relationship stuff off of there. Well, dear friends, I balked. I asked if he wasn’t planning on telling them about us. He said he’d already told a few people. I asked what the problem was then. He grudgingly said he guessed there was none. But the topic was dropped without satisfaction on either side.

A few days later, we talked more calmly. He felt the request was invasive and presumptive because it had been sent without warning or question.  I explained I was only attempting to right past wrongs. He said he could understand but that he wanted to wait a few weeks before declaring things there. That he cared what his friends thought and our story was already so full of twists and turns. He just wanted some time to be sure neither one of us was going to wake up one morning and run for the hills. I said I could understand and would cancel the request. And he could send it when he was ready.

And so time passed. First one week. Then two weeks. Then three weeks. He said he’d told everyone at work. So I was left wondering if he’d perhaps never told that girl he had been casually dating? Was he hiding me from her? That seemed unlikely as he would not have had any free time in which to see her really. So my mind leapt to the next horrifying but logical place. Maybe he really was going to wake up one morning and decide he didn’t want me. Why else?

But I stayed silent, as I had promised. Although in my mind, it became a larger and larger point of concern.

Then, one morning just this week, he changed it and I had the confirmation email. And even though we were spending every night together, and even though he’s been with me and so supportive through some difficult things lately… even though all of that is true, this one email about a relationship status setting on Facebook made me grin from ear to ear. Of course, I accepted immediately.

It really is the stupidest things which make a difference to us in the end. Or cause trouble.

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Time heals?

All of this rain makes me pensive. For some reason it always has. This morning I’m wondering if there’s really a problem at all.

We’ve been spending almost every night together. I fall asleep touching him. I wake up and roll into his arms. We’ve done big things… shopping trips, festivals, wine tastings. And we’ve done little things… hikes, movies in, cooking dinner. He continues to invite me over. He assumes I will stay the night. He tells me he wants me there because he knows I need to hear it now. He reaches for me as we watch TV in the evening and nestles my head against his chest then leans over to kiss my forehead.

And still I remember the way things used to be. When we were out in the sunshine and he would embrace me and kiss me passionately, not caring who saw. When he would tell me he loved me all the time. When we would go places and people could just see we were in love. When he would stand on every mountain both virtual and real and shout out that we were together.

Except then there was always something in the way. Always someone else. Always a choice to be made. These days there are no more decisions… just him and me. And I can’t help but notice that he barely touches me in public. That he rarely says I love you first. That he doesn’t kiss me like he used to. That he gets impatient when I want to talk about it.

In some ways we are closer than we’ve ever been. In other ways I feel isolated. And I think, maybe it’s not fair to think after a few short weeks that it will all just be like it used to. And then I think maybe he liked me better when he thought he couldn’t have me. I worry that maybe I am a story that he just wants to see the ending of. Then I think I shouldn’t post this here because maybe, he might see it. But now I think maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore.

We are planning vacations together. We are spending most evenings and nights together. In some ways, we have more of each other than we’ve ever had. And in some ways I still feel cut off and I still long for the way he used to love me.

This morning I just needed to tell someone, and so I tell you. I don’t want my neediness to drive him off. I don’t want to ruin our chance of healing. I try not to mention this to him too much. I’m not running away from him nor do I want to. I just want that love that I remember to come back to me. And I’m hoping all it needs is time.

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Unsaid

Sometimes what is left unsaid is as powerful if not more so than the words we do share. And while I hate when others do this, here it is. There is a lot I’m leaving unsaid right now. Before I face a barrage of opinions and feedback and other people’s thoughts, I need to make sure I’m clear on my own. I need the dust to settle. I need to breathe.

So I may not be saying a lot right now. But I’m here. And I’m living. And with each passing day the dust is settling a bit more and my breaths come clearer. When this all lifts for sure, I’ll have a lot to say. Don’t you worry.

But for now, I’m here. I’m quiet, but I’m here. Don’t give up on me.

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Bugging me – Again

Ask and ye shall receive… the second story of the attack of the giant beetles inside my apartment.

A week or two after the first incident, I had finally stopped looking for beetles around every corner. I decided that the giant life threatening beetle referenced in my last post was merely a coincidence. A one time deal. After all, my apartment is not especially prone to bugs. So my blood pressure had returned to normal and I could once again sleep at night without excessive scratching. Of course, this is where the story will go horribly wrong for me.

I was once again sitting on the couch and enjoying a quiet night in. Early in the evening, I heard some rattling of the blinds on the blacony door. Nothing serious, just sounds like they were shifting slightly. It was hot outside and the AC was on, so I decided that must be the culprit. A tiny voice in the back of my head warned me that this was a new noise and having the AC on was not a new thing. But I ignored it. No need to be paranoid, I told myself.

An hour or so later, the beetle found his way to the wall above my TV. That’s right, the exact same kind of big nasty beetle. I did not scream, although I admit I did dance and scratch a bit. But I also sighed and went in search of something I could use to reach and kill the nasty thing. After some careful rooting around, I spotted my black ballet flats. Triumphantly, I snatched up my new weapon and turned back to the wall to do the dirty dead.

But the beetle was gone.

One frantic search later, I located it on the vaulted ceiling of my apartment. Like 18′ up in the air. I waved the black ballet flat at the beetle in a menacing fashion but he seemed unimpressed. He didn’t move. We were at an impasse.

The real problem here was that I needed to go to bed. But now my blood pressure was elevated and there was a beetle on the loose. Clearly sleep was no longer an option until the beetle was dead. I mean, he could fly into the bedroom and land on me in my sleep! Seriously!

The beetle and I were clearly at a standoff, so I did the only thing I could really do at the point. I upped the ante. I threw my shoe at the ceiling. That’s right. I threw my shoe at the ceiling. Hit it too. But alas, I missed the beetle. He remained uninterested in me or my airborne black ballet flats. But now that I knew I could hit these high ceilings, I kept trying. I got close to the darn thing too, but never quite hit him.

The beetle tired of my game and took to the air, only to land on another spot too high to reach. Lather rinse repeat… my shoes flew once more. Then it happened. On one trip to retrieve my ballet flats, the beetle moved and I lost him. I stood in the kitchen in a panic brandishing my weapons of choice and deperately trying to locate the offending insect. I finally found him and he’d made a fatal mistake. He was within reach.

I approached the wall carefully, like a hunter stalking it’s obviously deadly prey. The beetle sat still. I drew my arm back slowly all while trying to stay as calm and still as possible. I locked eyes with the dirty giant beetle. And then I smacked him!

He spiraled off of the wall like a crashing airplane and I jumped back and screamed. And danced. And itched. But I had lost him. I knew it wasn’t a direct hit but I also knew he was wounded at the very least. Still I could not locate the beetle. I spent the next 15 minutes or so convincing myself that he had to be dead or dying somewhere. I finally went to bed.

And finally, I knew I had to ask for help. A few days later, when I had finally stopped skulking into the living room like a nervous deer, I had a friend come over to get rid of the bug. Yes, it’s true. I, Jane Wonder, called someone to dispose of a dead bug. And it was indeed dead… died right where it landed that night after I smacked it. And now it is gone.

Hopefully I won’t ever see another one of those damn things again.

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