Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Monday, June 11, 2007
Shmollis FleVitt still doesn’t want to be my friend

So this Myspace thing has kind of taken off like a cancer for me, like it do—you know, getting all excited about having a shit-ton of “friends” and being all disappointed when someone doesn’t “friend” you back. My biggest disappointment? My junior prom date.

Backstory: Shmollis (not his real name, obviously, but if you look real hard, you can probably figure it out because you’re all smart like that) and I met when we were competing in Speech & Debate; he was a cute little (emphasis on “little,” since he was about 5’7 tops) ginger kid and I—well, I was dating this guy from yet another team who wrote me badly-spelled letters every single day and who was also really dorky looking. Shmollis and I clicked, and he asked me to go to prom. I ditched the other guy, Shmollis and I went, had a fantastic time and ended up going out for about half the summer, as much as you can call liking someone who lives an hour away “going out with” at 17. Had his class ring and the whole 9 yards.  Then, for reasons unclear to me at the time, he asked for his ring back. I of course was rather crushed, but we agreed to be “friends” (as you all nod knowingly).

I might’ve mentioned here a time or two that back in my younger days, I was never known for my tact; that little detail never became more apparent than when one day, I was at a card store and found a card that you send to people you haven’t heard from for awhile. I can’t remember the exact gist, but the punchline was three check-off boxes with answers—the third of which was “Go Fuck Yourself.” At 17, that’s freakin’ hilARIous, so I checked off No. 3 and sent it to him, knowing that he would think it was hilarious, too.

Yeah, I called that one wrong. He spent most of our senior year ignoring me at meets. I know, right?

Well, then a year goes by, and I’ve finished my freshman year at college. I was getting ready for work and the phone rings. I pick it up, and wow! It was Shmollis! I was stunned and happy to hear from him, so I did that nervous talking thing that people sometimes get and blathered on about this, that and the other. And at the end of the conversation, he says, “You haven’t changed a bit.” Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? I thought to myself, but I don’t remember acknowledging it in any way at the time. But never heard from him again.

Ten years later, 1999: I’m at the magazine for which I used to work, and googling people has become my latest obsession. I google our old friend Shmollis and find that he’s at college in state. I’m sure I was depressed at the time, so I send him what I thought was a friendly e-mail with the line, “You know, I never understood what you meant when you said I hadn’t changed until [whenever it was that it occurred to me that, I don’t know, maybe he felt I was self-centered], but now I do ...” blah blah blah, and to e-mail me back sometime. You know, because I’d gained some perspective or some shit. And he never did, but it was easy to pass that off as maybe I sent it to the wrong e-mail address, although with a name like Schmollis, it’s a little hard to get that wrong, even for me.

So now, it’s 2007, and for fun I look up our old pal Schmollis to see if he has a Myspace page. Sure enough, he does—after a stint in the military and graduating from school, he’s back living in his hometown. I debated—It’s been 20 years since we were in high school and since I showed him my ass in that card. Should I “friend” him, thinking that hey! it’s been 20 years, he’ll be amused at the blast from the past; or should I leave it alone because he’s still pissed. I threw caution to the wind. That was about a month ago. No Shmollis.

I mean, seriously, people! I went on a ROLLER COASTER for this guy during the day-after prom at Great America. The LEAST he can do is put me on one of his back pages as a friend.

Posted by Broad6:14 PM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...

The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.


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