Funny thing about liking someone. It makes you a fucking lunatic. You stare off into space, thinking about them. You pull out your cell phone a zillion times, just to see if they texted you yet. You save your favorite texts they sent you. You make appointments with a personal trainer. You cancel those appointments. You eat three KitKat bars and vow to call that personal trainer back and this time, you are going to keep that appointment.
You once again worry about what you look like naked. You see yourself through someone else’s eyes for the first time. You question everything about yourself. You worry about your crazy family. You change your sheets. You consider sex toy etiquette (Yes, you need to get new ones. Those things don’t transfer).
You get those stupid ass butterflies in your stomach when they reach over to kiss you. You smile a lot, for no reason. You start every sentence with “Well, me and Mavrick…”. You drive your friends insane. You drive yourself insane.
And you start to realize that liking someone now isn’t a whole lot different than liking someone ten years ago. And then, oh hai, Interwebs! Let’s see if we can add a whole new layer of things to worry about. Thanks!
Trying to navigate the beginning of a relationship is difficult enough, and then you have to go and add the freaking Internet into the mix. Let’s start with Twitter. Mavrick and I follow each other on Twitter. But did I ever tell you that the day he joined Twitter, I had just tweeted:
“A watched cell phone never gets that text you have been waiting for. I hate crushing on someone. Makes me feel like a girl.”
So I get out of the shower to this text from him:
“Bet you wish this wasn’t the day I decided to get on Twitter. So. You’re crushing on me, huh? I like it when you’re a girlie girl.”
Like, honestly? I wanted to die. So. We text. We tweet. I blog. We live our lives SO in the public domain. And he knows it. He reads the blog (hi, honey!). I warned him that dating me meant having our dirty laundry aired out here. I warned him if he pissed me off bad enough one day, that I was a vindictive bitch and could go after him here. He knew (mostly) what he was getting into.
And this is not at all what it was like dating ten years ago. I didn’t have a blog. I didn’t tweet. And there was no stupid ass Facebook. This is my dilemma. How does one approach changing one’s Facebook status? It’s one thing to sit alone with your sweetie and agree to not see other people. It’s another thing to change your Facebook status. Then, all hell breaks loose.
You change your status from single to in a relationship, and the next thing you know, you have 75 messages and 32 comments. “Who’s the lucky guy?” “OMG, good for you! Who is he?” “Why haven’t I heard about this? You better call me!” “Did you tell him you had herpes? JK! Good for you!” All of your well-meaning ‘friends’ come crawling out of the woodwork, getting all up in your bidnezz.
Add to this the fact that if they are also on Facebook (he is) and you want to state that is who you are in a relationship with, and you want to ‘tag’ that, they have to approve, via email, that they are in a relationship with you. But what if they don’t want to advertise that? What if they aren’t ready to answer that flurry of questions? Does that mean that they aren’t serious about you, or that they just don’t want to deal with the shit storm that could befall them if they change that goddamned status?
WHAT DOES IS ALL MEAN?
It means that my head hurts. That I’m glad I always have wine on hand. That it’s not fair that Twitter and Facebook has changed the way we date. And that liking someone is a wonderful, scary, breathless, painful thing. If your Facebook status says single but you are actually in a relationship, does a tree still make a sound falling in the woods? This is the question for the ages.