Sunday, March 16, 2008

Dirty Little Secret #100

The boy who broke my heart is one of my Flickr contacts.

This, in itself, isn't all that newsworthy. While it's true that he and I avoided contact for many years, I believe that the people who were important in your past were important for a reason. Dirk and I have always kept in touch with our old flames. The woman from Wellesley he dated for three years? We attended her wedding and she attended ours. I'm proud to call her my friend. The boy who only thought he loved me? Ditto, and I buy hair bows from his wife. The boy who wasn't good enough? We argue about politics via email.

They all get holiday cards.

Including the boy who broke my heart. For a loooong while, even after falling head over heels for Dirk, we wanted nothing to do with each other. Well, he wanted nothing to do with me.

I kept in touch with his brother and mother, especially after his dad passed away. But through the years, contact dwindled to little but season's greetings. I reached back out when my own Dad died, and learned that he would be married. I garnered his address and sent the latest holiday letter to him and his fiancee.

She sent a lovely card back.

Recently, while sending a link for photos to his brother, I learned that he had a Flickr account.

Which leads me to the current situation. I'm aware that he looks through the public photographs of our life. He's mentioned my beautiful children and dog and house in an occasional email. I'm aware, through viewing his "favorites" page, that he also surfs through some of the less palatable and family-friendly options available on Flickr.

That freaks me out.

So last week I posted a self-portrait, semi-intended for HBM's truth project.

You can only imagine my surprise when I received the automated notice informing me that the boy who broke my heart had marked it as one of his favorite photos. There I am, sandwiched in between all the naked ladies with body paint and girls in bars posing lewdly. Semi-horrified for a variety of reasons, I showed Dirk.

He laughed maniacally for a good five minutes. When he wiped the tears from eyes, he burst into song, to the tune of Benny and the Jets:

"K-K-K-Karen and the porn..."

I guess it's only appropriate to roll this out on the day of my one hundredth secret. I've finally given all the google searchers what they've been looking for.

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