The scene: Yet another out-of-control Friday night at in Suburban River City.
The players: My glamour-puss friends Super Model Chick and her husband, Mr. Successful, a big-time executive at a local consumer products behemoth. And then there’s yours truly, the wheezing, runny-nosed single one. I figure if I can’t be one of the beautiful people, I’ll simply be seen with them.
Moi: Between slurps from a gigundus bowl of asian noodle soup: “So Mr. Successful, what’s the news on the digital marketing front?” I love to talk shop with Mr. Successful as I often use these topics in conversations with my non-web savvy friends. Anything to make me look smarter, you know?
Mr. Successful: “Oh, get a load of what I heard in the hall today.” His chopsticks hit his plate as it appears he needs his hands to tell this story. This should be a good one.
Moi: “Do tell!” God I hope he doesn’t use any big marketing terms I don’t know. Can’t stand playing along when I don’t see the punch line coming.
Mr. Successful: “My colleague was on Facebook today.” Seems full-time employment at the consumer products behemoth comes with stock options a-plenty to purchase a retirement acre on the beach AND a license to screw-around in cyberspace while they’re serving Corporate America. “While she was looking at photos of herself she said, ‘Joe (who I presume is her boyfriend) is de-tagged me from one of the photos in his album.’”
Super Model Chick: “What’s de-tagging?”
Mr. Successful: “The opposite of tagging. When you upload a photo to Facebook you can add people’s names to the photo. If the name is removed, that’s called ‘detagging.’ ”
Moi: “You can scroll over photos and, if people in the photo have been tagged, their name pops-up. Ah, I adore seeing how decrepit my old nemeses from high school have become. Not that I waste any time in that sorry pursuit…”
Mr. Successful: “So then she keeps talking while she’s still looking at Facebook.” Now he’s becoming more animated. Since Mr. Successful doesn’t waste his time on simple gossip that would entertain me for hours, I see that something interesting is imminent. “She says, ‘Joe is detagging me from all of the pictures of us together.’”
Oh. That’s too bad. I’ve always had an eerie sense of things-to-come that borders on the paranormal. Now I’m sure I know where this sorry situation is headed.
Mr. Successful: “Then she says, ‘I’m going to call him and see what’s going on.’”
Oh, please don’t do that quite yet.
While her situation is careening out of control I, in the comfort of the favorite neighborhood hole-in-the-wall Asian/Thai fusion place, can’t slam on the breaks. How I dread knowing what’s going to happen.
Even as I see this relationship joining the T-Rex on the extinct species list, I’m still navigating my chopsticks through my Asian noodles like Picasso with a brush. Yummy.
Out of nowhere, our teen waiter arrives. Between texting his girlfriend and adjusting his earrings that appear to be ¾ carats EACH of a much-beloved clear, shiny stone (they better be cubics and not the real thing or I ain’t patronizing this place again) and asks SMC if she wants a box for what remains of her meal.
His question welcomes yet another embarrassing food moment for moi. SMC is 4 inches taller than me and eats half of her meal. Conversely, I can see my own lovely reflection in my empty bowl. Instantaneously I rationalize that I’m allowed to eat my dinner since, gosh darn it, it’s only soup.
But back to the story.
Super Model Chick: “So how did Joe explain all of his detagging?”
Mr. Successful: “He broke up with her!”
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Told you so. Score one for yours truly, the newly crowed clairvoyant.
My advice? Break out the ramen noodles and the #mce_temp_url# sister. They’ll be your best friends for the next 10 business days.
Such sad occasions now know a whole new level of irresponsibility. Who would have thought detagging would be tip off a break-up-ee before the break-up-er delivers the news? This guy sadly underestimates web savvy women. Even I found him out before I heard the end of the story.
Please don’t tell me they found each other on a dating web site. Because if they met via an e-Harmony email, he needs to take a few lessons in cyber space from a 10-year-old.
Plus, this is cyber abuse! This is public space devoted to web surfing and chat rooms and stalking old boyfriends keeping in touch with loved ones and should not be used to tip off soon-to-be-ex-girlfriends. Stupid head.
Plus plus, he’s a weenie. Guys, if you’re going to pull the plug, Man-up! Here’s how: Take her out for a nice dinner. Don’t you know the first rule of the breakup occasion is to deliver the message in a public place to minimize the chance of the recipient dissolving into unruly behavior? Or silverware becoming projectiles? Guys, these are the basics!
Be sure to make an early reservation so she has enough time to:
1. Hear your sorry “it’s not you, it’s me” break-up story. Guys, save your breath. We know it’s you. Don’t wait around for us to tell you exactly how it’s you and not us.
2. Excuse herself to protect her dignity and leave you with a big, fat bill and a socially responsible tip. Avoid the embarrassment created by a sub-20% gratuity. This is definitely not the time to create enemies with the wait staff if you want to return to this restaurant. If you want to bring your next girlfriend here, you’ll need all the help you can get. Especially if they’ve read this scintillating expose.
3. Call her Mom and EACH AND EVERY ONE of her friends on her way home. She’ll need their support and the time to devise new curse words to hurl at you on many, many websites in the coming days. I’ll personally award extra credit to her friends who corner him the next day at the office and ask, ever so gently, ‘So, Mr. Wussie-Butt, just who do you think you’re going to date now? No one. That’s who.
Because everyone read this blog post and knows you’re the Facebook detagging breakup weenie.”