There Goes Another Relationship

When I was new to FB, it suggested as someone I “May Know” an attractive brunette with extremely large bazooms. Our connection was not readily apparent, so I clicked on her name and learned only her hometown and that she had only one other “Friend,” another woman with large bazooms. Since I knew someone in her hometown, I recommended him to her as a friend and alerted him to watch out for her. “Bob,” he replied, “she isn’t real.”

A week ago, I received a Friend request from an attractive blonde. Her bazooms were not in evidence; in fact she seemed preppishly dressed enough to be Socially Registered. She had no friends either, but she self-reportedly lived in NYC and worked for UNICEF. What the hell, I thought.

I accepted her request. I asked why she wished to be my Friend. Was it, I wondered, my literary output, the sense of mystery and danger registered in my home page photograph, the wit and pith of my posts in this very forum.

She enigmatically answered, “Where are you from?”

I mulled this over. Since my city of residence was evident, I said, “Philadelphia, originally. You?”

She (seemingly) mulled this over, replying some days later. “I am American.”

“Your syntax,” I said, after further consideration, “doesn’t seem to be.”

“Ok,” she said, a day and a half after that. Perhaps she was busy with UNICEF.

Then 12 days later, she said, “Hello.”

“Ok,” I replied.

“Good,” she said. That took her eight hours to arrive at.

“Hello,” I said, five hours afterwards.

“How are you doing?” she inquired the following morning.

“Ok,” I said, the following afternoon. “You?”

“Same Ok,” she said.

Then “Where are you now?” she asked this morning.