Facebook Will Get Ya

That's what they say at least. I just didn't know how it would happen, and then it did.

If you've been single all your life like I have, the reality is, all my past lovers outnumber the number of friends I have on Facebook. It was only a matter of time before the "Friends of Friends" Gotcha would get me, and a picture of a certain old boyfriend would appear in one of those little boxes off to the side for a friend recommendation. Actually, it wasn't even his profile. He would never be on Facebook... it's his wife's profile, who predictably and proudly displays their picture. His expression is complaisant, as if to say, "I had no idea when I took this picture of all the people that my wife would subject to seeing it."

Is it just me, or has the internet gotten totally out of hand? One minute, I'm writing about some boring network topic for work and the next minute, I'm staring at a photo of the first guy who broke my heart. He's pictured with his wife whom I've never met, but know all too well. But you see, I knew that was going to happen. I was somewhat prepared for this type of thing when I joined Facebook. No, that is not how it got me. The thing is, I couldn't resist searching for the next thing in line. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I knew it'd be so easy. So five seconds later, I pulled up the profile picture of their daughter. That's when it happened.

I sat at my desk staring at this picture of a beautiful... let's see... she was born in 1986, my Sophomore year in college, so a beautiful 24-year-old woman. The first thought: Damn, I'm getting old. Then I thought about the time when I held this young lady as a baby. I held her right after she was born, because you see, her father was my boyfriend at the time.

It was a long distance relationship as I left Indiana to go off to college at Penn State, and he stayed in town to work. I was pretty love-sick while we were apart. My grades and attitude suffered, my long distance bill was horrendous, and I even thought about dropping out entirely. During semester break my sophomore year, I was so happy when I arrived home. I stared out the window for a much anticipated reunion with my boyfriend, but I noticed as he walked up the sidewalk that something wasn't quite right. That's the day he told me that he got another girl pregnant and that the baby had already arrived. It was like a heart-shredding machine gun that kept firing... I cheated on you... she got pregnant... the baby's here... her name is...

I was in shock. I didn't move for hours, I think. I tried to side with him and his story about how she had lured him once at a party while drinking, and how she trapped him, and then never told him about the child until she was born. It was so small-town cliché, it killed me. But still, I tried. A couple days later at my boyfriend's parent's house, I held his baby and thought about how he and I could still make it work, despite his mother telling me I needed to vacate the relationship so that her son could do the right thing and marry the baby's father. That's how in love I was.

In the end, I decided that it was way too much for me to handle and I cut him loose. He ended up having another child with the same woman and then finally decided to marry her a couple years later. Jesus. I'm so happy that I stayed in college and went along the path that I did. Not happy, ecstatic!

I stared at the photo of their daughter and it made me realize just how lucky I am to have escaped the small town stigma that could have been me. Thank you Facebook.