are you okay?

i deactivated my Facebook account and totally freaked out my best friend in the process. it wasn't intentional, the freak out part...i honestly didn't think anyone would notice for awhile...but she noticed within a few hours, which i supposed might say something about our friendship. 

but more it was that she texted me...and obviously had run the flag up to our group. I've mentioned it before, but there is something a little calming about ones best friends circling the wagons. It's even more calming if it happens to be around you. 

i deactivated my fb because i needed a little break from social media. at least in large format social media. twitter is basically worthless and instagram takes entirely too much work...just about 12 people read this blog...and i know them all already...

Much to my chagrin, i'm not an internationally famous blogger. Although i looked at my analytics once and discovered that i had a large amount of readers (like 4!) in Moscow. I am going to assume that these are all spambots.

Spambots with great taste in the literary adventures of someone who badly needs an editor...but spambots...and it's a little much to ask ASC to edit my blog. I already send her the writing that is "really important". But that's why you have friends who are English teachers...grammarians if you will.

I received a Facebook email that served to create a "link in the chain" creating at least a decade worth of information and fact. It shocked me to get, but then it didn't shock me either. 

I've always known who she was, I was a little jealous of her. I always thought that she got the better Smash. She got the one who wasn't all damaged and cruel...the one who didn't lie about absolutely everything. She got the one who wasn't scouting backpages and craigslist and god knows what else looking for "ladyboys" or whatever else. The one who didn't cheat on her. 

She had never found a picture taken in her own bed, with her own comforter and her own carefully pintrested dresser in the background...of her boyfriends "goods" that was part of an on-going back and forth conversation with a transvestite from craigslist. 

She had gotten the "good" Smash. 

Except that she hadn't. 

It turns out that we got the same guy, five years apart. It turns out that she contemplated contacting me all the way back to 2009... It turns out I really wish she had. 

The only difference, honestly, was technology. She had porn line phone calls, I had porn website memberships and craigslist and back pages. (Interesting to note that i didn't even know that there was a casual encounters portion of craigslist prior to finding my own boyfriend's use of it. After that, i learned a lot. including that he had actually posted ads looking for "ladybois" to come to him...remind me again why i feel so horrible about everything?)

But otherwise it was the same...the same lies, the same transvestites (figuratively), same nylons, roleplaying, the same strange fetish related sex...the same insatiable need for something neither of us ever could...or ever wanted...to be.

The same feeling like an object and not a person.

We both encountered situations where we were told that we were the only one and he was seeing someone else...we both were told a variety of untruths about that situation. We both had a colorful explosion where he got caught. Again, the same lies...although it's interesting to note in her iteration of the story...which is 5 years prior to mine, both girls figured out together that tall tall tales he had been telling...

We both agree that he's charming and we both fell for it. But she's years beyond me and her hurt is a distant memory...mine is still very real. We both fell for those pretty blue eyes and the lies that came out of that mouth...

...and we are both smart, educated and together girls...

It made me feel better to know that I'm not the only one...but then it made me feel sad that he's been like this for that long. 

So I deactivated Facebook to clear my head. It needs it. In the middle of all this we also had a BLIZZARD in the city of Chicago. I was at the hotel the entire time...actually never leaving and spending the entire time as Manager on Duty. like whoa...that made for an interesting few days. Luckily I am often too lazy to bring my dry cleaning from my office to my car, let alone take it from my car up to the house, so I had plenty of outfit choices. It took me almost an hour to dig myself back into my garage and up the back steps to the back door. I was pissed off the entire time. Shovel by shovel...in dress pants because I had gone into work for a bit this morning to have a meeting with one of my teams, despite it being a day off for me. 

But my best friend asked if I was okay...and i'm not sure how to answer that question presently. Nothing is okay honestly. Between the stress of work and the things going on there which I have no control over and the hours i've been putting in over there...to coming home to a house that is a complete tornado and having no energy to take care of it. It was a major victory that i shoveled, honestly. I keep getting lost in thought and find myself 2 hours later staring at the exact same spot on the wall. Where did two hours go? and exactly what was I thinking about? 

But the wagons are circling and there's comfort there. 

I'm not okay...but I'm on the way to great.