Toddles

Today a boy I was mean to as a child friended me on Facebook.

He was the boy everyone picked on. He cried a lot and everyone called him Toddles. Just thinking about it makes my skin itch. We were mean. Kids are mean. And I should have known better. I was pretty far down on the totem pole. I was short, round, loud and awkward. I have large birthmarks on my left leg and kids used to call me Oooooogly. I should have known better.

But he was just a rung below me and so when the other kids avoided him on the playground so did I.

And now he has facebook friended me. The proverbial playground for post-adolescent, mentally adolescent, man-children.

And honestly when I saw the request, I kind of gagged a little. Not the ‘I want to vomit’ gagging that would make me truly a heartless bitch but more like the ‘riddled with guilt and yet I don’t want to be your friend just because I feel guilty’ kind of way.

I was in a show recently where one of the actors said, “Facebook is the natural extension of the email hug. If you wouldn’t stop on the street to give me one, I don’t want one from you electronically.”

And that pretty much sums up my feelings about facebook. If you and I have never worked, slept or done shots of tequila together, I don’t want to be your friend. There is too much sensitive information and too many opportunities for mindless commenting.

So Toddles might be a great guy, but from all accounts of his profile pic, status and political views, I doubt we would run in the same circles today. And even if we did, since I haven’t seen the kid since he was picking his nose behind the trash can at recess, I think I am just going to have to say no.

Yep. Apparently I am a bitch.