Someone forwarded an article to me from the NYT. I couldn't tell who it was because I didn't recognize the nondescript e-mail address of the sender. But I did remember that this person had also forwarded an article to me about a month ago. I had started to write a very generic response to the first message ("Thanks. I saw this as well. Not sure which side I agree with. But it's definitely interesting."), but I never sent it because ... well, bad things can happen when you respond blindly. This time, I figured I should try to decipher the identity of this mysterious figure. So I ran a search of the e-mail address on Friendtser. (That's what the kids do these days, no? Oh wait ... I think they're on to Facebook now. I'm such a fogy.) Turns out that this wasn't a mysterious figure at all but a good buddy using a shadowy, unrecognizable e-mail address. (I wonder why he needs one? Freak.)
What's more interesting about this tale of awkward Internet interactions is that, while on Friendster, I noticed that my last serious girlfriend is still listed as a friend of my buddy. This wouldn't have been so troublesome had I not recently discovered on a semi-annual perusal of my account at Friendster that she had de-listed me as a friend.
Why should I care, right? I mean, we really aren't friends anymore. We don't even talk to each other. But rationality rarely plays a prominent role in situations such as this. I was the precipitating force in the break-up. (And I say that not in a righteous manner but as an acknowledgment of my responsibility in the ordeal.) So why am I so troubled that she de-friended me?
It's just always a jolting feeling when things that have always been cease to be. I wonder if this is what Andie felt when Duckie grabbed Iona, kissed her, and exclaimed, "You've been replaced!" (Did I just make a Pretty in Pink reference? Leave me alone. It has a good soundtrack, damn it. Oh, the perils of growing up with three sisters ...)
At the heart of it, I think what's bothering me is that I do wish things were otherwise. I do wish that we were still friends. But I know that, for her sake, we shouldn't (and perhaps can't) be.
Such is life.