What Would You Do If I Told You I Loved You

Posted by Anonymous.

This all started 20 years ago I met a cocky big mouth extremely good looking guy that I had watched grow up before my eyes into a startling handsome man we dated a few times and I spent a lot of time at his parent's house (where he lived at the time) me and his mom were best friend's if you can believe that she always' said me and her son would get married. And then thing's would start to happen I guess I would get to clingy or I would run outta money and off he would go with someone older usually with her own house and she would support him and I would turn to whoever was available to fill the void I did it with my first marriage and I'm doing it with my second.

All of this just recently came about a couple of month's ago we found each other on Facebook then we started texting each other or should I say sexting we stayed up all night swapping pictures and he said he couldn't talk anymore he had to have me so we made plans to meet and I swear I was a nervous and a virgin on prom night. We met on a Friday he had drove down from a different state not to far from mine and it was like instant chemistry we couldn't keep our hands off of each other he's like heroin to me and when I don't get it from him I hurt. Well that was April 30th although I have talked to him at least twice a week via texting I always' ask the same question when are you coming back down to see me and his response is always' I'm real busy at work but can you send me some nude pictures of yourself and of coarse I always' get an I love you.

For awhile there I was thinking about kicking my current husband out because we've become more like roommates then man and wife even though he treats me like a queen and is a great father to our 2 kid's I just don't love him the way I love the other guy and I never will I consider him my first love and my only true love.

I asked him the other night what would you do if I told you I loved you and wanted to only be with you and he said I would tell you I love you with all my heart to but your married and I'm engaged and I said yea well marriages and engagement's end all the time. But I'm coming to realize that he doesn't want to stray to far from this new much older then me girlfriend she must have money she bought him a car and just this weekend he said he was going to go pick up a boat and I know she's paying for it all so he's got him a sugar momma and I can't compete with that. Well I guess that's all of my rant now I'll sit here for at least a couple of hour's just in case he besides to text me yea I'm pathetic I know every night I swear I'm not gonna text him first but I always' wind up doing it anyway I think I'll just go ahead and get sucker tattooed across my forehead and get it over with.

Signed Anonymous

Etiquette Rules for Facebook (A Guide for Fathers, Dung Beetles and Glenn Beck)

Posted by CFM.

Today, I became a fan of a dung beetle on Facebook.

Apparently, someone thought it would spark revolution if this tiny creature gathered more virtual pals than conservative blow-hard Glenn Beck. Thus far, Glenn Beck is outpacing the dung beetle by about 450,000 fans. It's discouraging, but it's not keeping me up at night, because Facebook is not real.

I am not really a fan of dung beetles.

Dung beetles do not really care if I like them.

I fanned the dung beetle without putting much thought into the decision. I take it for granted that everyone involved realizes my relationship with the dung beetle is fleeting, a momentary announcement to my friends via my profile page, and nothing more.

When it comes to Facebook etiquette, though, there are different expectations for interactions with dung beetles than there are for, say, fathers.

My father friended me on Facebook.

Then he unfriended me.

Then he friended me again.

This is the most I have heard from him in more than 10 years. Our relationship before that wasn’t great, either, after many rocky years during which my parents divorced and remarried various people with whom I did not get along. As I entered adulthood, I made a few efforts to reconnect with my father. I was rebuffed, I gave up and I tried not to think too much about him until he showed up on Facebook.

I really don't give too much thought to out-of-the-blue Facebook friendship advances when they come from casual high school acquaintances I have not seen since I successfully grew out my bangs and learned to walk around without my gaze glued to my shoes. (I don't think those two events are necessarily related, but they did occur at about the same time.)

When a person I barely knew back in those bad, old days of high school casually friends me, I assume that person, like the dung beetle, understands our Facebook connection does not actually make us friends.

I politely accept those requests, flip through my yearbook to place names with the (17-year-old, outdated images of) faces, then forget about these faux friendships until a status update about weather or dinner menus reminds me of these tenuous connections.

All of this is absolutely fine for Facebook friendships with former adolescent acquaintances.

Blood relatives, though, should follow a different set of etiquette rules on Facebook, I think.

A personal message should be required to accompany the family "friend" request.

In the case of my father, something like, "I remember when you were born! What's up?" might be appropriate.

After I accepted my erstwhile parent's foray into Facebook friendship, I wondered about his motives, but also about what he would gather about me from my page.

I'm not a 16-year-old angry girl anymore. But maybe that's not clear from status updates like this one: "Put this on your status if you know someone who deserves a smack in the face with a shovel."

Does a relative who chose not to RSVP to my wedding want to know that my gangsta name is Rebizzle, that I have never gambled in Las Vegas or that I am a member of a group called, "Can this dung beetle get more fans than Glenn Beck?"

Probably not.

But I hope he hangs out in my Facebook photo albums. I hope he sees his three-year-old granddaughter dressed up like a fairy princess for Purim last year, and my younger daughter’s first birthday when she cried even as she shoved cake into her mouth and the two of them bundled up in their warmest clothes to revel in a rare deep South snowstorm. I hope he sees all that and realizes that my little girls are pretty awesome in pictures, but they are way, way better in real life.