After my trite reply (“No”), I didn’t give much thought to my would-be MySpace suitor. However, as will happen with 21 year-olds…I needed some attention. The next day, I opened up the browser on my desktop and logged into my account. My overdone page popped up with all of its pink hearts and moving bows while Yuridia blasted in the background. I’d like to take credit for the extreme detail in my page, but truthfully, I had a teenage friend who was much better at that stuff than I was.
After uploading a new, overexposed profile picture that was taken from what looked to be Shaq’s perspective (remember taking those pics? Your arm extended above your face so that not only did you not have a double-chin–your chin was non-existent) I opened the messenger. I glanced at his profile picture, which I hadn’t done before, and noticed his name “Dany”. I allowed my fingers to linger above the keyboard before furiously typing “No…unless you went to school out here…” Sent.
Needless to say, we had no commonalities that would have linked us and given us the opportunity to meet in the past. He insisted, however, that I looked familiar. For several days, my phone would ring every five to ten minutes with a new message and just as quickly, I’d reply. He was funny and sweet–like every other guy. So I continued my life.