K was over tonight working and she was asking me if I had ever googled Mr. Headcase. I said no, because I haven’t. Through the years of dating, I have gotten superstitious-I don’t add people into my phone until I’ve hung out with them twice, and I don’t google them-so I can be surprised, and by extension, avoid that eerie feeling that I know way more about them than I should. At this point-googling Mr. Headcase seemed harmless enough-and really, I hit upon an internet goldmine when he was quoted in an article in the New York Times as they ran a story about his old place of work. The article itself was boring. But I read through it anyway. The line said “Mr. Headcase, 25, ……..” I paused. I read on, but had this niggling suspicion that something was not quite right. I went back to “Mr. Headcase, 25 said….” It was then I realized that the particular product in question hadn’t been invented when he was 25. You see, at the party Mr. Headcase told me he was 33. He looked old. Later on, in those heady days when I first saw his headpage account, I noticed that he had graduated high school in 1997. It was something that K and C and I had hyptothesized about-if he was 33 he should have graduated in 1993. Where had those missing four years gone? Did he drop out of high school and get his GED? Was he in reform school? It was then that I checked the publication date of the Article-On January 27th of 2005-he was 25-which makes him in 2008- 28 years old. 28. Not 33. I suppose the New York times is a far more reliable source than some guy at a party. The idea of someone lying to me about something so basic as their age-is really-alien to my world. In thinking of plausible explanations for those missing years-the most obvious answer never occurred to us-he had lied about his age, because really-who lies about their age, except for blushing grandmothers at their birthday party who sell Mary Kay? Again, I go back to the question of what kind person is he?
You know, here’s what I thought, I thought I met a kind of cool guy at a party I’d probably be friends with-i thought he was really attractive in nerdy dork kind of way. I mean, do you really expect a tech geek in a star wars tee shirt to lie about their age? No. As he was friends with people that I know in Bobois- I don’t know, I guess I also assumed he was a somewhat stand-up, nice guy.
What’s pissing me off about this whole situation is that it’s the epitome of some horrible cliche that you read about on some stupid dating site-the sort of situation that I assumed I was above. I don’t know anyone like him. I dont know anyone who lies about their age. I don’t know people who have sex with people, leave their number and then don’t answer a text message. It happens. What a cold-hearted little pig. I don’t know why this one last thing makes a difference, but it does. It means he lied about everything. He was never planning on returning my call. I mean, I don’t know, I guess I assumed that he wasn’t a complete ass-maybe personal things happened, I don’t know. But from the Getgo- that just sucks. Fuck you. I spit upon your headbook page.
Anyway, Monica and K sernaded me with songs about lies-tell me lies by fleetwood mac, lie to me by Sheryl crowe.
I spent part of the weekend in the bay area and went to a hilarious party sponsored by Hustler. That part will wait until tomorrow.
