"I was your silver lining but now I'm gold..."

I really think that Facebook and other social networking sites do more harm than good when it comes to mending the fragile post-break up friendship between former lovers...I am forever walking this strange tight-rope with the 3 or 4 different guys I've dated over the years....I don't want to say the wrong thing and make him think the wrong idea...or say the right thing and make him think that I'm not over him...and on and on it goes, like a dog chasing it's tail...like a snake eating itself.

I suppose if you have nothing better to do (like me!), Facebook is a good portal into stalker-hood...it exacerbates my neurosis and feeds into some weird narcissistic need to know what others say about me. It's sick, I know.

For example:

I got Dan and I tickets to see Paul McCartney, the former Beatles front-man, perform at the Hollywood Bowl next month. We both absolutely adore the Beatles and they were our favorite band growing up...our living room contains dozens of little Beatle relics here and there, including a collage I made from some Beatles postcards and pictures. So naturally yesterday morning I post in excitement:

"I got a date with Paul McCartney in exactly 5 weeks."

My friends all chime in with words of encouragement. Including fucking Edgar.

lucky u. A date with Paul McCartney i am so jealous

His comment just hangs there. I gotta say something...right?

WRONG. I should have ignored him. But I didn't...because I'm stupid.

I deliberated for several minutes on what to say back, begging myself not to fall into this quandary again. I write back:

Ed, hahaha..no worries. I'm pretty sure YOU have nothing to worry about. :)

What...the...fuck?

I mean what the fuck does that even mean? Like...am I trying to be flirtatious? What if Dan reads that? Argh fuck. There. I did it. Maybe no one will care. I convince myself nobody can be as concerned with my status updates than I am.

Piggy-backing on that situation, my former flame Rob decides to ask me a) how much the tickets for Paul McCartney cost and b) do I still have any of film recording equipment from college? His new band would like some audio and video shot. I offer to do so, even though all my recording devices now are pretty amateurish. Rob, by the way, has a cute new little girlfriend named Sunny...complete with red hair. I feel like a bag of farts compared to her. (sigh)

Thanks to Facebook, I'm back to chatting online with my ex-boyfriend Paul. It was very pleasant catching up with him. We talked about work, shitty landlords and relationships. He is single again...I remember staring daggers at this girl Carmen he was dating as I glanced at her profile on Facebook...Cuban, bi-sexual, borderline militant feminist and poly-amorous and with a butch, lesbian haircut...compared to her, I felt like a runway model. (yesss!) He confessed that he wasn't putting as much effort into the relationship as he wanted to, a theme that resonated with the demise of our love affair. He admitted his mistake but wondered how he kept making them. I promised a trip to see him late this summer, to which he was elated...he even offered me his couch to sleep on. I made it clear I'd visit alone and that we'd have to get drunk. I know that once you get the two of us and alcohol together, it's a recipe for a guaranteed sexy time. I pray that I'm single the next time I see him.

And I guess on a final and related note, I have developed a little bit of an unhealthy crush on Dan's good friend Hale. His real name is Matt, but hardly anyone calls him that. He came to visit a couple of weekends ago and we watched him play on the ASU lacrosse team against UCLA and Whittier College. I had met him earlier last year on a drunken bender/trip he had made out to Hollywood while visiting his friend Dave. I danced a little with Hale in this crowded bar in West Hollywood and talked to him over the loud, thumping music while Dan drunkenly looked for more beer. Hale seemed nice but a little unstable. We ended that night around 4 in the morning. All I remember is curling up on Hale's hotel room bed, watching him and Dave smoke a blunt while Dan vomited in the restroom.

Here we are, flash forward 6 months later, and he's stopped smoking weed. He also hadn't had a drop of alcohol the whole weekend because of team rules. We hung out with him in his hotel room. He looked composed and clean-shaven. We decided to watch a few episodes of "Eastbound and Down." Dan sat on a chair in one corner of the room while I scooted onto the bed and joined Hale. I made a joke about making a move on him, to which we all had a good laugh. Oh, if only they knew my secret thoughts.

I made sure each time I hugged him hello or goodbye, I'd squeeze just a little bit hard than the last time. My mind was reeling with sickening school-girl crush impulses...one of them including the revelation that Hale has the nicest green eyes I've ever seen.

It all came to a nice ending when at the conclusion of the ASU/Whittier game, Hale and his teammates whipped off their shirts. It took all I had in me not to let my jaw drop. He thanked us for coming to the game and said we'd have to meet up again soon. My eyes devoured him, recording every detail. I would have licked each drop of sweat off him without a second thought had things been different.

Since then, he and I have developed a nice friendship through Facebook. I've sent him pictures from the game and we've exchanged comments back and forth about them. All very innocent. All very normal. Maybe it's best I'm not single around Hale. I've seen his pictures on Facebook and seen him on drugs and alcohol. I know he'd be down to fuck me if Dan was out of the picture, but that rabbit hole might lead me to do some crazy, trashy things.

Ahhh, lust. You truly are an all-consuming vice.