Thanks for the quick email response, Rhonda.
No, no you can’t see the post anymore, I deleted it instantly. Bad enough it’s embedded on my retina now. I felt like Facebook pushed a finger down my memory, making me gag.
As I said, I had planned a regular easy going Saturday, down near the beach with my laptop. First cup of coffee, watching some guys catch waves, and then I logged in. With that contrived we-care-about-your-memories lead-in they regurgitated this ten-years-ago-today image in my face. And their stupid algorithms even suggesting I might actually want to share-the-memory.
An yeah, you were in the photo also, looking over my shoulder. And Wendy. And of course Him. But boy, it was all about Me that day — hogging that selfie, my greedy little face and that sparkling rock on my finger; almost looked like it was taken with a fisheye lens. Look Ma, I’m owned.
I appreciate your your kind words in my defense. I surely know that litany — they were young and inexperienced and bla bla bla — and I absolutely won’t defend the idiot , but I sure had me some double-wide blinders on. Only six months together — what was I thinking?! Well that’s just it — I wasn’t.
I certainly have a clearer perspective these days — more like a view from up in a lifeguard chair. I can look at those courtship traditions — engagement, marriage — as nothing but powerful breaker waves to simply let roll by. Back then I was hanging-ten on crests of love and lust. Sure didn’t hear the crack of the board, the laughter, and a voice predicting Wipe Out!short story
When fucking was the gold standard to secure the fairy tales there were a hell of a lot of things I didn’t think important to share with him. Wasn’t long before I discovered the disastrously major things that the fire between us burnt up before they made it out of his mouth.
You and everybody else, quite understandably, backed away from either of us when the really ugly stuff came out. I was dreadfully embarrassed. And viciously angry. I’m sure glad you and I eventually reconnected and that I have you to share this with.
It was so weird seeing that photo, that ring, again today, and really surprising to feel the emotions it kicked up. A month or so after that photo was taken I threw that trinket at him and swore I never wanted to see his face again. He said likewise. I set about doing so, hitting that delete button under any photos of him or us. Unfriend, block, forget.
I guess I missed one. You think I can sue Facebook for reminding me of memories I wanted to forget?
Eighteen of thirty-one stories — 500 words or less, written one-per-day during December 2018 — The Hunt & Peck Parables PatchWord Quilt™©.
© AleXander Hirka 2020. All Rights Reserved.