Facebook Stalking

You really are an idiot.

What made you think this was a good idea?  No money, no phone, alone in a strange city with only a driver’s license and a return ticket bought with someone else’s frequent flier miles. Stuck outside of the security line on hard little bench, sitting here staring at the departing passengers.   Stuck watching people running to catch planes and saying goodbye to loved ones.  Stuck.

You watch those faces carefully though, don’t you?  Not too obvious. Subtle. Casual.  But don’t miss a face, not a single one.

And then, finally, there he is. You stand up, slowly, hands clenched in hoodie pockets.  A vague look of sadness painted on your still-lovely-after-all-these-years face.  And you oh so casually walk right into him, knocking his expensive leather briefcase out of his hand.

You cry out an apology and try to help, making it all worse, and you don’t look too closely at his face, you wait for him to recognize you.

And when he does, you burst into tears.

And there are more apologies and a stupid story of a backpack left in an overhead bin on a plane and waiting for that plane to return, because what else can you do.  No, there is no one to call.

But as you are talking he is remembering. You can see it in his face.  He is thinking about lies from long ago.  He is thinking he can’t trust you.  You mention again, with perfect timing, that you are sorry for bumping into him, you look modestly down to the floor and let a little blush creep up your cheeks. You turn to sit back down, alone, on the lonely bench, and he feels the intended guilt and says – let me buy you a cup of coffee.  You look back up at him.  There are still tears on your eyelashes.  You let one of those infamous half smiles cross your lips.  Questioning.  Daring.  Are you sure?

And he does dare.  And you pretend ignorance to all the facts of his life as he gives you the live version of his Facebook updates for the last few years, first over coffee, and then drinks, and then dinner and then more drinks and then dancing and then I forgot how much fun you are.  And then…

And then it is five thirty in the morning and his wallet is in his pants pocket and he is still one of those idiots who carries huge wads of cash with them.  You leave a note..  Things are really bad now… I promise to pay you back someday…  Thank you for making a horrible mistake into a wonderful adventure.

At home, you check Facebook and see that his status has changed from, “MCO to PHL tomorrow!  Can’t wait to be home!”  To  “Ran into an old friend last night – she stole my heart and my wallet.  Again. When will I ever learn?”

Who’s the idiot now?