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Tuesday, February 25, 2014

How Facebook helped me be myself

Like yesterday’s Facebook story, I wrote this piece nearly five years ago. What a perfect time to reminisce!

Facebook Flirt* was the sort of guy I should have known in high school but didn’t. Even though we attended the same school, I never spoke one word to him.

But now, years later, I see he’s the perfect guy: He’s smart. He’s a musician and an accountant. He loves mural painting and the beach.

How do I know all this? Easy. We friended each other on Facebook. Looking back now, it’s hard to believe my own world-changing revelations that would result from that simple first click. In hind-sight, I certainly did more than ‘add a friend.’

In our world of social networking, Facebook has rendered the traditional high school reunion virtually obsolete. In fact, Facebook is swiftly becoming the new Google, only easier and with less risk of carpal tunnel from typing all the different permutations of search terms. Facebook, lucky for me, was the curious and nosey girl’s dream come true. It’s like a single’s bar, only better because A). You’re not in a bar and B). You actually know more about the person than simply his first name and his go-to karaoke song.

But with ease comes a new sense of intensity. It’s all a lot of pressure. You get photos, up-to-the second status updates, even live chatting.

Until Facebook came along, I was what most people would consider a social wallflower. I was shy, quiet and admittedly, a bit unsure of myself. And when it came to love and relationships, those qualities were only magnified. I suppose my physical disability had something to do with it. In a world where blondes and brunettes with long legs ruled supreme, I’d resigned myself to the fact that my physical disability by default made me a Spinster For Life.

I’m not entirely sure what it was about Facebook Flirt, though, but something about him made me not want to settle for my self-imposed Spinster sentence. Maybe I needed a challenge or maybe I genuinely saw something in him that made me think “This guy might not be like all the rest. This one might be different.” Whatever the reason, I casually sent him a message one afternoon, carefully choosing my words so as to come off as casual and subtle as possible without sounding like a complete certifiable clinger.

Though I tricked myself into believing I didn’t care if he replied or not, I was secretly giddy inside wondering if I’d hear back from him. And I did, a few days later, when he sent me this response. I sat there like a bobby-socks, hair-twirling school girl analyzing the note. OMG, he’s read some of my writing….and not just ‘some’ but ‘A LOT.’ OMG, he actually liked what he read. OMG, he wants to type with me soon.

OMG, what was I going to type back? I shot off this reply, after several hours of contemplation. The reply had to be subtle, yet make a bold statement. I had to be forward, yet not reek of desperation. It had to be casual, yet inviting.

Over the next few months, the inevitable poking war ensued. I’d ‘poke’ him. He’d ‘poke’ me back. I’d return the gesture with another ‘poke’ and so on. We settled into a comfortable rhythm, and even I’ll admit my face light up with a smile each time I logged on and saw that magic poking finger icon. Never mind the fact that I had virtually no idea the hidden meaning behind the elusive pokes – some Facebookers say it’s just a way to say hello while other Facebookers say it’s a subtle form of flirting. I chose to believe the latter, naturally.

I should be over this, shouldn’t I? But frankly, I liked the way this dance made me feel. Facebook gave me a new sense of boldness I’d only seen other woman pull of. I felt somewhat empowered by it, to say the least. Over the next few months, we flirted like innocent high schoolers: posting witty things on each other’s wall, more poking, yet all the while keeping everything a bit subtle, mysterious even.

Six months later, I began thinking a bit deeper, about everything our little banter had meant to me. I, finally, got to know someone who didn’t add my disability into the equation. Of course Facebook Flirt knew about my disability. But he also knew that I longed to go to Vegas for my thirtieth birthday, that my dream was to move to New York City and climb the ladder to publishing success — and, that, for all my supposed self-assurance, I was really just completely awkward and a huge dork. For the first time in my life, I could be anyone I wanted, but I really only wanted to be myself. And whether he knew it or not, Facebook Flirt helped me in that department.

I realized, ironically, that in addition to turning me into a giggly schoolgirl, Facebook had also managed to transform me into a woman too. I could leave my love handles, what I saw as my disability baggage, at the door as soon as I logged on. No, I wasn’t hiding it. No, I wasn’t denying it existed (I knew it was there; I lived with it every day). What I was finally realizing was that for once, it could come second. I could put it in the backseat (maybe seal it in the trunk if I wanted) for awhile and sit in the driver’s seat. At long last. I could be a woman. Not a woman with limitations. Not a woman with a disability and a wheelchair in tow and a long medical rap sheet trailing behind her. Just a woman.

Just me — a woman who wanted love, who wanted to be loved for who she was, who could maybe, if only for a minute, pretend differences didn’t matter, that flaws are hot and imperfections are sexy. Because contrary to what so many people in my life think, my disability does not make me a superhero immune to those sorts of feelings.

I’d like to think I’ll still have this newfound boldness should Facebook Flirt and I ever meet in person. At the very least, it would be interesting to see how that would play out. Maybe he’d play me a song. Me? I’d probably be too dorky to do anything other than poke his shoulder and say “In-person poke.” And I’m sure there’d be some giggling on my part involved.

*Not his real name, for obvious reasons.

[Photos via We Heart It]

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2 Comments Filed Under: Disability, Facebook Flirt, Facebook Fun, Facebook Fun Week, Facebook series, Facebook week, Love Lessons, Uncategorized

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Hey Springsteen.

To be clear: No, this is not about The Boss, Bruce Springsteen. No, we didn’t have a passionate love affair, and no, he didn’t break my heart – though I do sort of have the biggest crush on him! I’d had the words to this number in my head for a few days and when I went to write it, the words just easily flowed. So who’s it about? I nicknamed Facebook Flirt Springsteen after I saw a photo of him and his guitar (he’s in a band). But, as the song goes, the fun flirting stopped, I have no idea why (maybe it’s me?) and so now, I guess all I can call him is Facebook, since he obviously didn’t enjoy our little flirting fun.


Of course it had to start with a photo of you and your guitar
That’s how it had to be
Hey Springsteen?
We knew each other from way back when
But those butterflies, they made me feel like we’d just met
An impossible dream, always a fantasy, it seems

Every time you talked to me, my insecurities faded away
And now that you’ve faded away, I don’t know what to say
except

Hey Springsteen
Did you forget about me?
Hey Springsteen
Is it so hard to believe, that out of those beautiful girls falling at your feet
That I could be the one for you?
‘Cause you really had ne going there for awhile
With your charm and swagger like a rockstar
Looks like anyone can be deceived
Hey Springsteen?

What did I say to make you shy away?
Did I say too much or not enough?
You couldn’t handle my honesty
Hey Springsteen?
When everyone was disappearing, you stayed
You let me be myself, didn’t have to hide a single piece of me
‘Cause you took a chance and looked on the inside

I could have been the love of your life
If only you’d looked one more time
But maybe that was too obvious for you to see
Hay Springsteen?

Hey Springsteen
Did you forget about me?
Hey Springsteen
Is it so hard to believe, that out of those beautiful girls falling at your feet
That I could be the one for you?
‘Cause you really had ne going there for awhile
With your charm and swagger like a rockstar
Looks like anyone can be deceived
Hey Springsteen?

Hey Springsteen
I wrote this song for you
‘Cause one of us had to give some meaning
To what you put me through

Hey Springsteen
Did you forget about me?
Hey Springsteen
Is it so hard to believe, that out of those beautiful girls falling at your feet
That I could be the one for you?
‘Cause you really had ne going there for awhile
With your charm and swagger like a rockstar
Looks like anyone can be deceived
Hey Springsteen?

Hey Springsteen
Did you forget about me?
Hey Springsteen
Is it so hard to believe, that out of those beautiful girls falling at your feet
That I could be the one for you?
‘Cause you really had ne going there for awhile
With your charm and swagger like a rockstar
Looks like anyone can be deceived
Hey Springsteen?

Oh, it’s sad when the music is gone
And all you’re left with is silence
Buy, hey Springsteen, you should know this
I could have been the love of your life


[Photo via Audrey Hepburn Complex]

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3 Comments Filed Under: Facebook Flirt, Heartbreak, Love Lessons, Lyrical Gangster, Shame on you, Uncategorized

Monday, September 28, 2009

MEMO TO MEN: Poking Ponderings.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: Melissa
RE: Show me you poker face
DATE: September 28, 2009


The whole poking phenomenon on Facebook has always mystified and intrigued me. Not so much for the creepiness factor (though I suppose it could be creepy if you’re getting poked by random strangers….), but for this simple reason: I have virtually no idea what the collective meaning is of said pokes.

What exactly are you trying to do when you ‘poke’ someone? That’s the million-dollar question that’s been running through my mind for years, actually.

I’ve heard arguments from many camps on the poke’s true intention. Some say it’s merely a way of saying HEY to someone and nothing more. Others say it’s a subtle form of FLIRTING, as in “I like you and would like to poke you (and more?) in real time, so I’m sending you this virtual poke as a signal” like it’s the animal equivalent of the mating call in the wild.

Why am I so obsessed with decoding this little riddle? Because of my deep-rooted hopeless romantic nature, and of course because of my three-month poking war with Facebook Flirt last year. The guy just throws me off my whole game; from my end, I know why I keep poking him: Because he’s HOT, funny, sweet and of course I’d like to get to know him better. Oh yeah, and I’d LOVE to poke him in real time.


But why did he keep the poking going? Oh, yeah, and even more questionable: Why did he just suddenly stop? A lion in the wild doesn’t just simply lose interest during prime mating season, does he? Guys, let’s me serious here: That’s just not your standard MO, is it?

So I’m left to wonder (irritatingly, in fact): Was he merely indulging that crazy girl from the cornfields? I feel like I’ve been pranked and still can’t find that damn hidden camera. It’s not a very fun position to be in. Really. It’s not. At. All.

Seriously, though, what are your thoughts? What is the real meaning behind the elusive Facebook poke?


[Photos via dustjacketattic]

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6 Comments Filed Under: Facebook Flirt, Love Lessons, Memo To Men, Uncategorized

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Dating With Disabilities: Sour Patch Kids And Facebook Affairs.

Teaser: That’s it. I’ve come to the most undesirable of undesirable conclusions: I am far too subtle.

Dating With Disabilities: Sour Patch Kids And Facebook Affairs


[Photo via We Heart It]

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4 Comments Filed Under: Dating With Disabilities, Disability, Facebook Flirt, Online Columns, Uncategorized

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

More Classified Info From The Facebook Files

So here it is…the grand finale of my recent, funny with Facebook Flirt…



Verdict?

xoxo,

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4 Comments Filed Under: Facebook Flirt, Humor, Uncategorized

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So About What I Said is a daily blog that covers relationships, disabilities, lifestyle and pop culture. I love to laugh and have been known to overshare. I also have an unabashed obsession with pop music, polo shirts, and PEZ dispensers. Read more...

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