That Was Close...

One nice thing about Facebook is that it allows a person to appease that stalker facet of their personality that they bury deep down under their good looks, witty repartee and debonair charm. *smiles rakishly, light glinting off my pearly-white teeth*

I've spoken often in the past of my unrequited high school yearning for one miss Betsy Hagar. I've also mentioned that I found her once on Facebook, but decided not to repursue our friendship, because I preferred to keep the fantasy that she hasn't changed a bit from high school (except maybe her boobs got bigger, thanks to having children...I'm a simply--if roguishly appealing--creature).

And, well, my fears might not be completely unfounded.

Betsy is apparently the exception to the rule. Last night, I decided to go through and cyberstalk check up on several of my ex-girlfriends, various crushes, and other ladies that I had been interested in or who were interested in me throughout my Cassanova-esque career.

Unlike the wall I've erected around my personally-skewed memories of Betsy, I've actually become friends with various ex-girlfriends, mostly from high school, including She of the Unkempt Pubes. I haven't asked--nor do I want to know--if a razor has Lewis-and-Clark-ed it's way down below, or if "Here There Be Dragons" should simply be written below her waist.

Notice how I said only high school ex-girlfriends. For the college ladies--as I mentioned to someone else--I tended to go for the nucular option when burning those bridges. It's amazing what a little maturity can do for breaking up...

Anyway, I went delving through the profiles of several ladies from my past--from the few I remembered from elementary school all the way through those last few moments before meeting and falling for my wife.

Look at me, trying to save face.

My most common thought: "Whew...dodged that bullet."

What I found before me was a panoply of candidates, all ripe for being featured on People of Walmart. Several of their profile pictures resembled screen shots taken from an episode of Cops. One of them I mistook for a dude--a dude with very large man-boobs, but a dude nonetheless.

This is not to say that all of them looked like they had succumbed to meth addictions, but, wow. My tastes in high school must have been turned to "trashy" more often than not. Either that or Huntington, Indiana is not the land of milk-and-honey that it's advertised as being. I know, shocker (without the dirty pinky).

As I pondered what life would have been like with some of these women, I suddenly saw the episode of the Simpsons where Lisa and Milhouse were married and living in a trailer, Lisa lying in a mumu suspended above a garbage-and-rat-strewn floor in a hammock. I shudder now even to recall the vision, no matter how amusing it might be.

There were a few former flames that I could not find. For instance, the girl I was with before I met my wife? Her last name is "Adams". Do you know how many fucking "Adams" there are? Not to mention, she shares a first name with an actress AND a photographer (and a physicist at Vanderbilt), which only serves to complicate the stalking search.

And though the Sword of Damocles threatens from above, I can safely say I wouldn't trade the woman I somehow secured to share my bed with any of my past crushes. Well...except for the girl I nearly threw up on. She turned out to be pretty fucking hot.

But not as hot as my wife. *shifty-eyed* Love ya, baby!