Another eHarmony Success Story

I was recently the recipient of a most intriguing text. It was 10:18 in the P.M. when my cell phone vibrated in my right, front pants’ pocket. Instinctively, I demanded everyone stop talking or moving around or carrying on with any frivolity and shenanigans, so I could give the proper respect and attention to my incoming text.

But I was suddenly perplexed by what I read:

Hi Ally. Just wanted to say hi. I hope it’s not too late. Justin.

Now, for those of you keeping score at home, my name is not Ally. Never has been. Not even to my most intimate friends. And the only Justin I know who would text me is my brother. And he rarely calls me ‘Ally.’ And he knows I keep late hours, so unless he was texting to ask me if it was too late to apologize for breaking into my locked trunk while I was out of the country for two years and subsequently losing not one but TWO mix tapes I had made before leaving, then I couldn’t see why he would be asking me if it was “too late.” (And no, Justin, it’s not late to apologize for that. I forgive you. Whew – I’ve been waiting for that one! Thank goodness that’s over. Water under the bridge, brother. Water. Under. The Bridge.)

Anyway, I immediately surmised that this fellow had the wrong number. So as a common courtesy, I simply typed:

Of course it’s not too late. Come on over. And giggled to myself at the thought of Justin showing up to Ally’s residence, unannounced and late in the evening. But then I thought, “This Justin character (if that is his real name) has my cell phone number. He could really make things annoying for me. Best I just leave him alone.” So I deleted my original message and went with the safer:

Justin who?

From eHarmony, he clarified.

Wrong number. I answered back. I’m not Ally.

Wow, he texted a final time. She gave me a wrong number. Don’t I feel like an [Bible swear word].

Oh, hold me. This poor sap. He actually trusted that this woman had given him her real number. Now, I’ve never been on eHarmony; however, I have to assume that of all the millions of phone numbers exchanged over that site, 98% to 112% of them are fakes.

I thought of sparing his feelings and helping him to feel like maybe he was dodging a bullet with Ally. Something like: Just kidding, Justin. This is Ally. I’m sorry, but it IS too late. I’ve gone back to my boyfriend. He has been there for me every time I’ve gotten out of rehab. Also, we love the same Hilary Duff movies! And even when I pistol-whipped him one time for making that comment about Oprah, he forgave me so quickly. So, sorry Justin, but maybe in a different life.

But again, he had my cell phone number. Plus that would have taken too much time to text. Plus I am exceptionally busy as of late, trying to recreate two awesomely assembled mix tapes, circa 1990, that my brother may or may not have lost and/or stolen. (For which I totally forgive him.)

No Comment

If you have just recently stumbled across this little blog o’ mine, then welcome. Please make yourself at home. Look around. Pick things up, put them back down wherever. I don’t care. Look through my underwear drawers, I’ve nothing to hide. You don’t need a coaster for your beverage. Don’t look too close at the corners, though, they may be dusty. I don’t have time to clean everything, you know!

Anyway, eventually you’ll probably notice something. I don’t have my “Comments” button on. I actually haven’t for years.

I don’t remember precisely when I turned them off, but I didn’t really think much of it at the time. People have occasionally asked why I don’t have them on, but I just change the subject or throw something at them and then run away while they are distracted and/or hurt. But really, I suppose I avoid the subject because I don’t have one clear answer why. I’ll try, though.

I started keeping a blog as really, just a place to practice writing and story telling. I absolutely love to read or hear people’s personal stories. Life-altering, intriguing, surprising, and of course hilarious – I love to listen and swap stories. I also occasionally enjoy writing a story satirically or even in a different voice than my own. With that in mind, I started writing this blog. And folks would leave comments, and it was all fun.

And then I felt I was too distracted by the comments. What could I write about that would solicit comments? Should I not post anything new until people have had enough opportunity to comment? What if people leave a negative comment and hurt my tender feelings? I just wanted to not worry about comments anymore.

Please know I absolutely love that people read my blog.  And when I visit with friends, I love that they’ll give me feedback or encourage me or whatever. But I enjoy the freedom of not being distracted by comments each time I write.

However, recently I have been threatened by a few folks if I don’t turn the comments back on. I mean, not since I was a teenager and convinced my dad to take our entire family to see Joe Versus the Volcano (starring two-time Academy Award Winner, Tom Hanks) have I been subjected to such harassment.

And so now I am reconsidering. And I ask, should I turn my comments on? Should I give it a trial run? Will you be offended if you make a compelling argument, but in the end I decide to still leave my comments off? While I have been writing sans comments for quite some time now, I am curious as to what kind of spirit of community might be fostered by folks leaving comments. Perhaps new friendships will be formed. Perhaps the “comments room” in my little blog home will become a safe place to rest from the weariness of life. A place to encourage others to share their personal, albeit brief, stories. A place where Joe Versus the Volcano will be showing in a constant loop on the television. (Because I stand by my conviction that that movie was funny. He should be three-time Academy Award winner, Tom Hanks!)

So, please leave a comment, and tell me what you think. Rock the vote! Cast your ballot! And let me know how you’re doing. I miss our chats and haven’t heard an update from you in a while, quite frankly.