Facebook torture

At the end of next month, it will mark my 10th anniversary on Facebook. Ah, yes, that accursed time-waster. When I first got on FB, initially I rejoiced at this quick, easy, and free means to look up old contacts of mine. High school classmates, in particular. We did have Classmates.com, but it wasn't the same.

It was great seeing the few friends I had come back into my life. But then, something else came in. I was stuck in a miserable job with the Big Box Hellhole. I had made a critical mistake earlier in my career, and I never recovered from it. So, I was slaving away in retail hell. Any potential I had was long gone. This was my lot in life.

And everyone else? Well, according to Facebook, everyone I knew was living high on the hog. Almost everyone had great, promising careers, making money hand over fist, and taking great vacations with their perfect families. Well, I loved my family, but it wasn't perfect. I hadn't been on any vacations. And don't even start me on my job.

And then Facebook found another way to torture me. I started to see my old crushes again. Of course, they were all happily married, with kids of their own. I had been married seven years at this point, and I love my wife. She's not what i wanted, but she's what I needed. But high school crushes? That's different. I wondered how I would have done with the girls I had a thing for back in the day. How could have I had been more successful with the girls. Would a success with the girls given me the confidence to do more in my life?

I was a high school loser, never made it with the ladies ... walk this way, talk this way. Yeah, that was me. Built like a sack of potatoes, pizza-like complexion, hair liken unto a haystack, no money, no athletic or academic prestige, and disdained hobbies and beliefs to boot, I had little offer the top women in my class.

And yet, something happened my senior year. I started to get a little more involved with things, like student government and activities: class floats and homecoming dances. And girls started to notice me, a little, it seems. I can't say it was my good looks, but I think it was my quiet competence and willingness to listen to them that got me noticed. And soon, some paid me a little attention.

Including one high status girl. The prom queen, no less.

We talked a little, she would smile at me, but that was that. I think I had an advocate in her mother, believe it or not. On one of the last days, she was speaking to me about the plans to go to the park, almost hoping I'd invite myself. Instead, I begged away, and left her to her friends. I went home and was watching a softcore movie, wondering why my life was so pathetic.

So, when I saw her on Facebook, all those bitter memories returned.

And tonight, for some reason, I decided to torture myself and look for her again.

She's gone.

I found her husband, whose page was two years old from the last update. Her profile was gone altogether. Maybe she was gone for professional reasons, or personal ones. But she's gone.

I'll keep her that way.

The past is gone. Dream on.