"There is nothing to talk about. I think you are a great guy and I wish you all the best just not with me."
The following weekend he proceeds to send me Facebook messages, and then tells me that he didn't actually send them. He told me he lost his phone while I was in "Nantucket," and that someone is messaging me from his phone that went missing. When I suggested that he change his Facebook password he told me not to "be a bitch." (This is about the time I stopped responding to him.) My friend Amy and I decide that this cannot possibly be true and she drafts the below response, that I never sent.
"How were you able to get a new phone so quick. If you lost is Saturday night? And then were at brunch by noon on Sunday. You know stores don't open til noon as well on Sunday? Also what is even more crazy as that when you got that new iPhone magically on a Sunday morning the old phone would have deactivated. That's right only one SIM card per number. Story Fail!"
She then posted the below link onto my Facebook...
And suggesting that number 21 be "lying about a stolen phone to cover up drunk messaging."
SFC responds by defriending Amy and posting numerous posts about the guy that stole his phone. He also texted me and asked why I was making fun of him.
The following weekend another friend posts about a voicemail left and he begins a Facebook comment war with my suitor because he thinks that every thing I post is about him. Luckily my former suitor despite having been cyber bullied decides to end the tennis match. Unlike you, SFC, not everything on my Facebook page is about you.
It seems this young man in addition to all of his feelings and analyzing of things he also had a lot of insecurities. Not unlike many sixteen year old girls I know. I was not mean to this guy, but he sure does blame me for everything. I cannot speak for you, but the next time a frown man reminds you of a sixteen year old woman, it is time to run in the other direction. To once again quote Mike Jackson, I am still picking up the shit in my backyard.
