Facebook homepages have a section called “People You May Know.” No doubt you’ve seen it. It’s where Facebook displays the profile photos and names of people (it thinks) we might want to reach out to. I believe it was once called “Suggested Friends.”
In either case, I’ve noticed Facebook doesn’t throw many friend suggestions my way. In the areas where they are typically displayed, I usually see an off-putting message telling me I need to add more friends to receive suggestions. This infers that the familiar adage about money also pertains to friends—at least within the realms of social media—meaning, “It takes friends to make friends.”
My circles are small, and I prefer them that way.
Could it be that Facebook long ago discerned this about me? And that is why it gave up on beguiling me with friend suggestions? Whether that is true or not, a few months ago (and several weeks into a prolonged period of not being beguiled), Facebook presented me with a most peculiar pair of friend suggestions.
Yes… two whole suggestions… how generous of the Meta folk.
Unlike what usually pops up on my Facebook page, these two suggestions caught my eye—which was quite a feat given the quagmire Facebook has become. I don’t know about you, but my Facebook feed is constantly clogged with ads and posts that don’t belong to anyone I follow, let alone anyone who is a friend of mine. It’s quite sad, actually… what’s become of Facebook. And I mean that sincerely.
Let’s face it, “The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be.”
The first of the pair was none other than the King of England (i.e., King Charles). But to be clear, it wasn’t really him. I checked. It was someone who “thinks” they are the King of England… an imposter… a faux royal. In any case, since I did not require a pretend king friend, I deleted the suggestion.
Sorry, Charlie.
The second of the pair, however, was a different story altogether.
~
Her name took me back to when I was a freshman in college. She was in high school then (the same high school I graduated from the year before), and we had met through a mutual friend. Her name, though, popping up as it did, caught me off-guard.
But seeing it paired with the King of England was a tad amusing… and it did cause me to smile.
The truth is, I liked her… a lot. But it was not meant to be… something easy to say now, but not so much back then. Long story short, she and I dated for a couple of months… some forty-nine years ago… winter into spring 1975. But I was an overly shy teenager back then, and she grew tired of that (or so I was told), and things fell, as they so often do in life, quickly apart.
I did try to talk with her about it (the last time we were together), but the words just wouldn’t come.
So, I retreated… with contradictory emotions. I felt hurt (by the things I was told) but also contrite (for not talking with her about it). Looking back, I realize I was a bit harsh on myself, but it was a different time… and a different me. Nonetheless, I never heard from her again… and took to believing all of what happened was a foreshadowing of my eventual station in life.
But I was mistaken.
~
Hidden among the moments of our lives are moments of the essence. And it has been my experience that these moments do not always reveal themselves as such… at least not right away. Sometimes, it is not until we look back—be it days, months, or years—that we recognize them for what they truly are… turning points in our lives.
While April 1975 ended with a deafening silence, the month of May graciously ended with a symphony of much-needed change. It was my turning point… an inflection point… my moment of the essence.
And it brought a most remarkable girl into my life.
Her name was Laura, and she simply strolled in one day, in the most carefree of manners… and with no more than an unassuming “Hi,” pocketed my heart.
She spoke of Key West and Pensacola, and I spoke of mountains and upstate New York. She was talkative and outgoing. I was quiet and reserved. Her eyes sparkled each time she smiled, and I happily allowed myself to be taken prisoner by both.
Our first date was in September (forty-nine years ago… tonight). Four months later, when the New Year arrived, 1976 brought with it… quite simply put… the rest of my life.
~
As for the second friend request… I’ll not mention her name here, for we have three Facebook friends in common, and I wish to save her from ever having to admit that she once dated me.
However, unlike with the pretend king, I did not delete the suggestion… but neither did I act on it. The truth is, I couldn’t bring myself to do either. Perhaps my contriteness lives on in some way… for I do have a knack for feeling at fault. So strange it is to excel at such a sullen thing.
Maybe that is why I thought it more fitting to simply wait for the suggestion to disappear on its own (which it has). For the record… the pretend king has never reappeared as a friend suggestion… and neither has she.
And as for the supposition… I hold it to be true. And perhaps I have convinced you… “Facebook truly does serve up the most peculiar friend suggestions.”
