Almost exactly 18 months ago, I signed up on MySpace to keep any eye on my cousins. I wrote a post back then on how I felt like such a pedophile, I was so much older than everyone on there. My fascination with it quickly dissipated. And now…well…Facebook has taken over the world. But someone from MySpace transitioned into a ‘real’ world friend. He found me on MySpace, commenting on my profile picture of me perched on the edge of a boulder high above Machu Picchu. He had spent the past couple years traveling all over the world including that very same spot. He blogged about his experiences, posting gorgeous photos of sunsets and natives. We emailed back and forth, long and short. He was a burner. I was a burner. We both promised to find each other at our respective camps, but never got around to it. After his travels and Burning Man, he picked up where he left off in San Francisco. We always ended our email communications with a half-hearted intent to meet up. But never really cared to. I’d ask his opinion on places to travel next, what were his favorite spots, were there areas he considered unsafe for women. Ironically, it was while I was traveling that we communicated even more. Long emails would go back and forth. I’d sit at a computer kiosk in Nicaragua, eager to see if he’d responded. He was always so attentive, with long descriptions, detail, and insight. He encouraged me to take my blog writing and get it published…which I loved. No guy had ever said that to me. And back at home, the same thing always happened. We made plans to get together and the plans fell through. No tempers flared. Simply that we never made it out. I figured our friendship would continue to be an online one. One that had moved from continent to continent, MySpace to Facebook, never to be made ‘real.’ I wrote on his Facebook wall, “You are my Snuffaluffagus friend. I’m not sure if you’re real.” He laughed and immediately switched out his profile picture for a big brown Sesame Street Snuffy.
Then one night, we made a point to meet up. Nothing specific, just “text me when you’re free later on.” By the time later on came around, I was tired and home. I didn’t want to be out anymore. I was done for the night. Then he texted. “Where are you? Let’s meet up!” I told him the truth. I was tired and home already. I didn’t think he’d mind. We had established a pattern of not ever meeting up.
“Argh! Hmph! I was hoping to finally meet you tonight.”
My sentiment got the better of me. I wasn’t a flake. It didn’t matter what the past had been like. I had said I would meet up and now I was flaking on him. I hate flakes! I called him up. “I’m sorry. My bad. If you don’t mind that I’m in my pajamas, then by all means come on over. I can open up a bottle of wine and we can have a good chat.”
So he came by. The doorbell buzzed. I took a deep breath. Before he was done trudging up the stairs, I went over and gave him a big hug. He picked me up and swung me around, then planted me back down on the ground. We both had big smiles on our faces. He looked exactly like his pictures: tall, athletic, handsome. I felt like I was meeting my long lost boyfriend. Someone I had heard all these stories about…and now I was finally getting to meet him.
My place was a mess with all the painting and remodeling. The only safe haven? The bedroom.
“I know you’re not going to mind because you’re a burner and I’m sure you’re an open-minded guy, but as you can see my place is being remodeled. So if you don’t mind, we can sit on my bed and drink wine. Is that ok?”
He shrugged. “Fine by me.”
I was in pajamas, but I like to sleep naked if that’s any indication of what my pajamas looked like. Tank top and briefs. Glasses. Like I said, I was ready for bed.
He found it to be odd as well. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you and we’re sitting here in your bedroom.” He was too nice of a guy to be any more suggestive or humorous than that.
I giggled. “Yeah, I think it’s funny too, but I really didn’t think we were going to meet up.”
So there we sat on my bed, sharing a bottle of Pinot Noir. All we did was talk for an hour, enough time for me to lean my head on his shoulder and admit, “Ok, sorry, time for you to leave now. This girl needs to get her beauty sleep.”
With that, he tucked me in and quietly made his way out of my place.
A few minutes later, a text came through. I couldn’t resist getting up to read it.
“Your pajamas are hot.”