Lisa doesn’t live here anymore. Film at 11.

October 15, 2008

I really should have known better. After all, I’m not exactly a rookie when it comes to the game of Life. I’ve lived on Planet Man for a handful of decades now. I’ve got a lot of miles under my belt and, sad to say, more than a few over my belt as well.

I know all about expectations and disappointments. How the things you look forward to so hard it hurts often fall this side of spectacular: the onset of puberty, graduating from high school, finally moving out of the family home, working for a living, sex, growing your hair, winning large in Vegas, sex, your first lap dance, er, I mean stag party (Hi, honey! Love you!).

So much breathless anticipation. So much merciless reality.

All those years. All those lessons learned. All those hopes burned and dreams dashed and promises broken. All those lies believed and deceptions accepted.

And yet, there I was, cursor hovering over the Confirm tab. I was in my Facebook account. I was looking at Lisa Shaver’s Friend Request. And I was holding my breath, sad fool that I am.

You will recall Lisa from an earlier blog. You will also recall my confusion at a youthful, comely lass requesting to be my friend. A youthful, comely lass whom I have never heard of, nor met nor, it appears, share any friends with.

I hesitated for months to allow Lisa to run rampant through my Facebook site — that whole Stranger Danger thing, you understand — and then finally thought, oh what the heck, if someone really wants to run rampant over some aspect of my life, it might as well be a youthful, comely lass.

So I clicked Confirm and sat back to wait for our first communication. Our first communion. Our first contact.

I knew she’d write me because I’d also sent her a heartfelt message, something along the lines of, “Hey, I’ve already blogged you, we might as well be friends now.”

Soon after, I noticed the announcement: “Lisa is now friends with John Wesley Ireland.” Good start. Here we go.

Any day now she will write to me. How about now? OK, now?

That was a week ago. Something — call it, oh I don’t know, a gut feeling — tells me this isn’t working out the way I’d planned. That I’ve once again fallen between the cracks of Life’s floorboards and now reside with the crumbs and the dust and that quarter you dropped and never could find after it rolled away into the darkness.

Lisa has 270 friends and I’m stuck on Page 3, right between someone named Slash Hudson and some guy named Peter Jazi.

There was supposed to be a party on Planet Man, a celebration of a new friend made, a new connection established, of future Notes exchanged, laughter and tears and photos to be shared. That’s how it works with Facebook, right?

But the champagne has gone flat, the balloons have all sagged, the mice have nibbled on the sandwiches.

There is no happiness on Planet Man. Apparently, Lisa Shaver no longer lives here.

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