Four-Alarm A-Hole Phrase

So maybe you've heard of four-alarm fires? It's when the fire is so large that the alarm sounds in the nearest four firehouses. Occasionally, we're fortunate enough to experience our own personal four-alarm fire in an interpersonal sense. And that is what tonight's post is about. Enjoy.

I recently had the displeasure of meeting someone new thanks to the web-based cesspool of sex-crazed adolescents, married women and divorced men that is MySpace. I log into MySpace about once every 3 months mostly out of curiosity and sometimes because I've received an Email notification that "$$$YoungMuneyXXX$$$" or "<3<3<3 KayleeLuvsTyler <3<3<3 wants to be my friend. I'm sure ">youngmuney" thinks he can "holla" at me with his nifty use of dollar signs and subtle sexual gestures and that Kaylee just wants to bolster up her friends total.

About 3 weeks ago, I received a notification from a seemingly normal screen name attached to a socially constructed idea of a handsome man. Safe enough, right? So I befriend said young man and he starts chatting with me on MySpace. A caveat: I usually reserve my chatting for Facebook as I see it the only acceptable means of instantly communicating with someone. If you're still using AIM please seek immediate social media medical attention. So I begin talking with "Larry" and he of course immediately begins stroking my ego with phrases like "Hello cutie." And "Wow, you must have the most perfect smile." "I'm captivated by your stunning eyes," he goes on to say. And I stop. Surely, I have not found myself on the set of Eclipse: The Twilight Saga?!?!?! I mean come on, guys. Even though I'm happily taken by a wonderful man, I can't help but be a little curious as to what the kids are up to these days and modern courting behaviors.

"Larry" and I continue to chat and I find out he was a graduate of the same university as me. Relevant literature on relationship development would tell me that this is the first step in moving on to the next step: establishing common ground. This little escapade lasts into the next few days. Then, out of nowhere, I stopped hearing from "Larry." Not a huge disappointment I must say. So I let it marinate and surely enough a few days later he attempts to contact me once again. Only this time, I could sense a hint of immediacy in his conversational tone.

I asked "Larry" if I had done or said something to offend him to which he replied with what I will always remember has the Four-Alarm A-Hole Phrase, "Look you have a boyfriend and I'm really just trying to sleep with you and since that isn't going to happen then I don't really want to talk to you."

My mouth hung agape and my fingers failed to administer a witty blow to his ego. Instead, I stared at the screen for about 2 minutes reading and re-reading just to make sure I hadn't misread anything on the screen. Once I had determined that this was in fact a reality, I logged off of MySpace and cancelled my account.

You might read this and think to yourself that nothing good could possibly come out of such a disaster; however, you would be mistaken. It has led me to a very interesting line of research in interpersonal communication and computer-mediated communication. The veil of anonymity is more like an iron curtain. When a communicator knows he or she has nothing to lose, all is risked in conversation. A pitiful way to live life, but a most interesting narrative for a 20-something beginning blogger.

Walls of My Heart

It's true. There are nights when I lay here and wonder if we're good enough for each other. Or whether I'm good enough for you. But that all changed when I decided to write about you on the walls inside my heart.

Imagine the bathroom at your favorite bar. Now picture all the quotations, poems and random one liners inscribed on the walls of those dirty bathroom doors. What we might not think about is the state of mind someone was in when writing those words. Perhaps a little heavy on the truth serum? Without truth serum, I wrote on the walls of my heart for you. The dirty walls of my heart that keep encrypted secrets and sentences that mean nothing to anyone but me. I tried to put you in a love song, a beautiful poem and even a diary. Oddly enough the only place that seemed to fit was on the walls of my heart.

Lifted, grateful girl
Lost in her own possessions
Provided little love
Gave too much of herself
Now protecting the broken pieces

With false accusations of security
Mama says everything will turn out fine
But fine was never good enough
Where's my pretty palace
With lace curtains that line the sun-drenched hall
Where's the unbreakable man standing tall

Little girl lost in this small world
Searching, climbing, spinning like a top
In her favorite flowered dress
All she ever wanted was that fairytale
But people don't lie in fairytales
People don't die in fairytales
And people always dance until dawn

A prince will not do
And neither will you
Little girl dancing her song
As you interpret the moves you don't even understand
To mean something you're not ready to know
Never leaving this fairytale behind
One day maybe you can write your own