I thought about accepting her friend request. I did.
But I didn’t understand why I should. And the type of person I am calls for logic – tell me why I am doing something before I do it.
I am not good at following blindly, which is why my religious walk ended so abruptly. (though still not as abruptly as I suppose it should have been, but arduously, drawn out, like an unhealthy lover). And speaking of love, I may be bad at it. Love seems to need a certain blindness. Or should I say, one-track mindedness. Forsaking all else and others. Ignoring reason presented to you – but there are lipstick smudges! Look, receipts! – . Like…blind…faith.
The reason I thought about it was Slevin. I think he wanted me to. But I didn’t have a good reason! And I didn’t want to talk about it not being a good reason. Because why? I am also the type to want people who are reading my statuses to actually know me. I am no socialite. Or spam robot. Or corporate bigwig organization faking community responsibility and giving a damn.
But then I thought about the fact that they are friends. sigh We’ll end up meeting. She’ll be shorter than me, possibly less eloquent, but the look on her face will speak volumes. It’ll be a look that says, ‘I wonder if this bitch is going to deny seeing my friend request’ right before I deny seeing her friend request, because, you see, this is a culture I have cultivated, rather conveniently. I don’t look at my friend requests so that when I say I didn’t see it, it isn’t actually a lie.
Though in her case, it will be. She’ll know it – I’ll know it – and we’ll smile, cordially, at each other, her thinking I’m a stuck up snob and me resenting her for even bringing it up in the first place, because surely, if someone doesn’t accept a request, like girls who give you the wrong number at the club, why, pray tell, must you flog the dead horse?
The moral of the story is, I am not an honest person, and I’m not sure if I am interested in being one.