Oh, Facebook: A T-Bone Update. Or, the dude I would’ve banged sometimes.

Alright. So it’s no longer Pride-y Pride month so enough with the gays! (kidding gays!) Today, I bring you a long awaited and much anticipated (says I – but aren’t those the same things? says you. Hush up and listen! says I) update on, guess who, T-Bone!

I don’t know if you remember, but back before all that Terrible Horrible Shit happened, I kinda met this dude. And I use “kinda met” loosely… although we did meet… but that’s about as far as it got.OK, quick refresher (wow and it sounds SO much more interesting when you put it simply):


I thought he was attractive.

I e-mailed him. He responded with the most blunt-but-so-not response ever. I e-slapped replied with an actually-this-is-what-blunt-means reply.

And then he actually was blunt about his situation.

And that was that. I didn’t see him much, and then shit hit the fan on my end, so… yep. He wasn’t really in my thought processes for about three weeks (for good reason).

Until. I started to get back on Facebook (I needed the distraction and to start stalking my friends since I hadn’t seen them in three weeks). And. One day, this was T-Bone’s status (oh, social networking…):





Please note that the blank at the end of the parentheses starting with “2.1 miles through…” is a city near me. A very. large. urban. area (Miss Determined knows which one I speak of and can attest to its large urban-ness). Not quite NYC, but. Close enough.

And later…





Um. Can I just pause here to mention that “stinking” and “sweating“? No. Not always the same thing.

I’ll let you all digest that for a moment. Not even gonna say anything (… except maybe this… “not near my sheets! I just washed those! Ahhhh!”)

Now let’s fast forward to the end of May. And I’ll just present you with the following e-mail.




_______________________________________


To: Amy F.
From: Me.
Subject: Twilight.
Sent: Wed, May 25, 2011 at 5:00 PM

Know how [T-Bone] posted on FB about walking barefoot in [that big city where he works]? Yeah. Well. He just posted this jem AS HIS FUCKING STATUS:


“a few weeks ago i did an experiment to see if “skin tags” could be removed at home on the cheap ($3 compressed air and a q-tip instead of $18 wart freezer from CVS or a trip to the dermatologist). 6 out of 6 test sites were successful after 14 days, no scars.”

The fact that he’s attempting to remove *skin tags* “on the cheap” isn’t helpful. I take that to mean he either has a shit-ton of (ok only 6 – that he’s addressed so far) “skin tags”… or knows a bunch of people who do? And is removing them for these people?


Really? This is what he decides to post to everyone? Are you serious? Good to know the Twilight Zone is in full effect (e.g. the only remotely attractive man in my general world at present walks the streets of _____ barefoot while picking at his skin tags. Or offering to remove them from other people). Even if I can’t possibly focus on it, it’s still there. In case you were wondering.

And no, I don’t care what “skin tags” actually are. They sound gross.

PS *Still* can’t find the shift key? Really?




_______________________________________

Look. Amy explained to me what “skin tags” are. I understand that they’re not all THAT gross, if you take care of them, and that people get them – some more than others – and can’t really help it. Ok. No biggie. Bodies are weird. It’s cool with me.


But. As your facebook status? As a 30 year old grown-ass man??

I think another e-mail (one I sent shortly after the barefoot thing, as I couldn’t hold it in and had to say it to someone) sums up how I feel about all this:




_______________________________________


To: Vicky
From: Me.
Subject: left field.
Sent: Sunday, April 30, 2011 at 11:28 AM

Hey lady,


OK. I know this something that should not even BE on my radar right now, but since I’m a lil back on FB, I can’t help but notice and had to say this to someone who understands…


Dear [T-Bone],


You are a perfect example of why sometimes it is better to just bang as opposed to getting to know someone and “be friends”. [Not that I am thinking such things now but] several months ago, I really wanted to bang you, because you were rather attractive. I didn’t need to know much more about you, I really didn’t need “conversation,” and if I never learned another thing, I’d still want to bang you, in several months when [maybe] we’d both gotten over our shit.


But, see, sometimes conversation and learning things about people is just not helpful to the banging. Of course, when you have social networking, you don’t need conversation to learn things about people you didn’t want to know. I no longer have much desire to bang a weirdo who walks around barefoot, despite the fact that he’s not homeless or crazy (*ahem*) and can afford shoes, and thinks libertarianism is an acceptable form of politics and Ron Paul is an acceptable presidential candidate. I could have *eye roll*-ed over the rather ample evidence that, in different circumstance, you might still be living in your parent’s basement playing video games and making Star Wars references only your buddies would get, but…. the barefoot thing? Really? In public? And, Ron Paul? Really? Did you miss the part where that mofo be crazy?


I suppose, given both of our circumstances, I should thank FB for this information I never asked for, and this little reminder why sometimes, it’s better not “friends with benefits” but really rather “that dude I bang sometimes.”

All the best,

[Nikki]

_______________________________________

Please note that I did not actually send that e-mail to T-Bone. Just Vicky. To get it out of my system.

Look. The bottom line in all this is simple: there is such a thing as too much information. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

See, I just need to find you physically attractive for me to want to bang you (and hey, that’s a two-way street so don’t mind if that’s the only reason you want to bang me – why is that a problem?). I personally don’t care if we have not a thing in common. The conversations in the sack certainly won’t be on politics or things you do that are weird, and I don’t actually need to converse otherwise. Shhh… Baby. Don’t talk.

However. When the information starts coming in… and it becomes more and more obvious how very… incompatible we are… a very sad thing happens. I start to find you unattractive. And then I don’t want to bang you so much any more.

Oh the tragedy!

I mean, maybe I could get past all that stuff with T-Bone… except for the barefoot thing. Hey, mahalo for removing your slippahs in my house… oh wait… let me find a bucket and a scrub brush… and stay away from my bed with those!

Plus – It would appear that he is dating someone new since the writing of the above e-mails. Now, I know this is going to sound catty, but you have to believe me when I say I don’t mean it that way, but… if that’s the girl he’s into? Then clearly I am not his type. Just sayin’.