The Past Sent a FB Request

     My Facebook does not have my full name, it’s very rare that I get a friend request from someone from my past– especially since I moved thousands of miles away at 15. Who would remember me unless they knew my full name and how to spell it?  I like to think of myself as one of those girls from Sally Jesse Raphael Show who revealed their adult form to those that teased them as an ugly, awkward kid and teen.  I like to think I at least blossomed into some form of less awkward human that has more appealing features than in my earlier days; I mean, I have two eyebrows now, not just the one. In my head, I’m not exactly recognizable to anyone from my home state because of this imagined transformation but maybe I am?

     I received a friend request from a name I’ve never seen before, ever; never mind actually knowing this person.  But his picture was worth drooling over.  Irish-pride tattoos cover his body, he’s in boxing shorts, the legitimate kind, and his muscles are…just beautiful.  I have very low self-esteem, mostly because of the reality of my life and physical situation, so I carefully examine this man’s profile.  Why did he send a request, who are our mutual friends, what are his posts mostly about, are there any clues as to which way he leans politically; religiously?   I’m not fond of confrontation or conflict although I’m very defensive and aggressive when it comes to my views and personal space being invaded or, what feels like, attacked. My main question is:

Are his looks worth a potential argument down the line?

     Because it will happen.  I’m not an internet troll, I’ve learned to end the grammar gestapo behavior, and I’ve also “hid” numerous pages from my feeds so certain  types of posts don’t cross my feed as often; I’ve maintained a level of consistently low negative reactions to other people’s posts.  My issue isn’t within the differing of opinions but people’s inability to Google before they post things like, for instance: pictures of the wall between Israel and Egypt and saying it’s between Mexico and Guatemala and that Mexico paid for it. That’s a hefty statement to throw out there, you might want to fact check that before someone else with the internet comes along and says: hey, idiot, that wall is nowhere near fucking Mexico.

     I couldn’t figure out through his public profile why this dude wanted to add me so I accepted because eye candy is always nice if nothing else, right?  Plus, he clearly has a lot of experience with personal training, fitness, and some sort of boxing.  I thought I could learn something therapy-wise through his posts.  I learned how to do Bulgarian squats from someone’s gym post so maybe….

     There was a part of me that hoped he saw me on a scroll through his suggested friends, thought I was pretty and sent the request.  Like I said, I have low self-esteem but I was still hopeful this was the case. I figured he’d eventually see I was nothing but a photo taken at a decent angle so I made sure to basically study all his glorious photos exuding masculinity before he caught on to my boring-ness.  I’m married, a mom, in my thirties, and physically limited…it’s not very often I get some random hot guy sending me requests to let them into some aspect of my personal life.

    A week goes by and this guy has not deleted me, this is a record.  He has to know by now that I’m not available and even less desirable than my public profile reveals.  I really start to wonder who this guy is but there’s nothing in his profile!  It’s really looking like some guy lives in my hometown and knows a few people I used to know which gave him access to my profile.  This makes my confidence jump more than a few notches.  Maybe he really thinks I’m attractive.

Someone out there thinks I’m attractive!!


     Move over feminist Kt, because this guy thinks I’m pretty and that means I’m important.  I became obsessed for like a day.  I was proud of myself somehow; like I had accomplished something when I did and changed absolutely nothing.   But I still had no idea who this guy was.  He really felt like someone I should know but he doesn’t look at all familiar.  Who do I know that’s that proud of their Irish heritage?  No one I haven’t already communicated with since opening my Facebook.

     My relationship with Kasper has been especially rough over the last few months so this guy popping up really improved my daydreams and fantasies no matter who he is.  I added him to my fantasy of leaving Kasper and actually having a life while also improving his by not being in it.  Kasper is seriously the best husband, not greatest but he’s pretty awesome, and I can’t honestly say I want to leave him but it is a fantasy <–I have no idea what this means about the health of our relationship.  My fantasy with this guy, Shotgun, wasn’t even sexual.  I  imagined myself in his gym (he’s a personal trainer, MMA fighter, and fitness pro) learning from him how to improve and master my disability.  I imagined us as friends, jealousy and low self-esteem and all; I guess it’s because I know it’s fantasy and I’m too much of a realist to ever truly fantasize all the things books and movies are made of.

     I realized I was “liking” too many of his posts.  I wasn’t targeting his posts; I’d hit the “like” button then see it was his post, but it’s like we have stuff in common (I realize I sound like a nauseating teen). It was refreshing to see I have things in common with someone I don’t know; and the posts are pretty eclectic so it hit a nerve somewhere in me.  With things being the way they’ve been with Kasper, I wanted to take my phone and shove it in his face and scream at him that there’s a hot guy out there that finds his wife attractive and we have stuff in common.

So watch out buddy, because until this guy realizes what a loser I really am, you have a threat on your hands in my imagination.

   I did show Kasper one of his videos.  Mostly because he asked what I was watching, insert awkward gym noises, but also because he was using something called an Atlas.  I described the “anonymous poster” as arrogant, always posting videos of his workouts and pictures of his [incredibly awesome] bod.  What a tool, right?! Kasper was interested (he goes to the gym a lot) because he’s yet to learn to work with an Atlas.  A part of me wanted him to be jealous that this guy is on my feed but Kasper is not like that.  He doesn’t care.  If I cheated, he’d probably calmly ask me to leave, or just leave himself.  It’s really frustrating because you feel unimportant; but he’s simply not into drama, emotions,  or any displaying of want for anyone or anything.

Ladies and gentleman, my husband

             I decided last night that in order to get this guy out of my head I would  blog about him today; I’ve got to get this obsession over with.  Now, I’m 1,600 words in with more to tell because…..

     Shotgun posted an inspirational quote this morning about the past and I shared it.  It’s a good quote and relevant to so much in my life. After I shared it, I thought, this guy is going to think I’m stalking him.  But yesterday, I shared a photo of Kasper and me from when we first met with a long post thanking him for 11 years together and this guy “hearted” it so he must know I’m not stalking him, right?14469510_301047136930363_9147181404353044756_n

          Minutes later I get a PM.  It’s him. It’s from him.  He’s like,

Hey, Kt, how’s it going? Been a long time.  I’m sorry about your stroke, you might not recognize me because I changed my name.

     Well, that explains a lot while also explaining nothing at all.  I reexamine his pictures and I only feel like I *should* know this guy but don’t.  His body is not something I would recognize since we were kids last time I would have seen him.  Obviously his name is unknown to me, and I don’t recall ever knowing anyone into martial arts.  It was pretty bizarre and I told him so.  He told me his first name and I about dropped my phone!

     In the ninth grade I met this kid who wore reddish-black lipstick and had a black mohawk.  He wore big, bulky silver rings on all of his fingers and black nail polish; he was almost always in a Manson shirt.  We smoked pot during school together, sat next to each other in class, flirted every opportunity we could, and ate lunch together–usually with his girlfriend between us.  I was so in love.  He knew it.  I wanted to “give” him my virginity.  I had the same belief I carried with me to Texas: no matter what Krank Ficken did to me, it wouldn’t count in my “real” life.  I will choose who “gets” my virginity and I chose Shotgun.  But it never happened; Stilla told on me before it could happen and Krank Ficken was so mad, I couldn’t leave the house for weeks.   It wasn’t long after that, that I finally told Krank Ficken to leave me alone, that I would tell; that I was 14 and finally knew what he was doing to me all those years.  So in a way, Shotgun gave me the hormones to stand up and finally protect myself.

     That year, Krank Ficken was arrested (still don’t know who told authorities).  In my yearbook Shotgun wrote the most awful note right over my face, forcing me to keep that book buried with  my total and complete mortification.  He apologized for making the mistake of not liking me the way I liked him.  It stung, like really bad.  It was a rejection that he wrote on a book I was supposed to hold as a timeless keepsake.  I’ll never show my kids my awkward boyish looks and mono-brow because of that horrible note.

     This morning he apologized but it means nothing.  Knowing who he is now makes sense.  The obsession makes sense.  He really stuck with me.  He was the first crush that resulted in nothing but my learning that liking a boy is a pretty dumb idea.  I never pursued anyone after him, believe it or not.  Maybe I did in some ways but not like I tried to chase Shotgun.  It was a different heartbreak from many others before and after.  Like it was always innocent, almost nothing perverted it; which is a weird way to put it because we were both in really awkward phases.  He had a girlfriend but he flirted with me and this boy that was the first openly gay boy I ever met.  I was obviously single but I not only flirted with him; I also had a very public crush on a girl who rode the bus with me to school in the city.  I’ll never forget her even though I never learned her name.  In fact, Shotgun’s girlfriend is the reason I never acted on any possible non-hetero emotions.  I’m not a lesbian but, Fiona (Shotgun’s girlfriend) teased me in ways indescribable and it frightened my budding sexuality.  I was going through so much as it was and it was like she was taunting me with shame.  I just can’t describe it.

     Now there’s a part of me that wishes he never told me who he is.  It’ll all be disappointment from here and I’ve been fighting another cloud of depression these last few weeks.  This will make everything worse.  I don’t like facing my life and “catching up” means providing details about things I’d rather avoid all together. I don’t want to hinge my emotional stability on his opinions or reactions.  What do I do?  Hope he has shittier things to tell me than I him?  Not say anything?  I’ll only respond and reply, not provide and supply.  Seems like the safest route.



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