Last night, upon arriving from having dinner with the Significant Other, I was greeted at the door by the Son.
“Judging by Auntie M’s Facebook update, she’s either trying to snag an audition on Comedy Central, or she’s off her meds again.”
“Very funny. Let me see.”
There, for all the Facebook trolls to see, my sister had posted the following update:
“Louie, why didn’t you marry me? And more importantly, why didn’t you follow your dream of becoming a sanitation engineer?”
When I clicked on Louie’s profile, I realized he was one of my sister’s old high school boyfriends. And no, he had not gone on to become a sanitation engineer.
Instead, his public profile revealed he was a martial arts expert and a hot shot actor in Singapore.
“Aren’t you curious to know if any of your old boyfriends are on Forbes’ Wealthiest Men list, Mom?”
“I seriously doubt any of those jocks are having cocktails with the Donald.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you use my Facebook for 30 minutes so you can look up all your old flames.”
Curious to see if any of the Romeos from my past had shared Louie’s good fortune, I asked the Son to pour me a cup of coffee and began my search.
Thirty minutes later, making use of FBI skills I didn’t know I possessed, I had managed to find forty percent of my previous suitors.
I smiled broadly as one profile after another revealed that these boys had not aged well.
Receding hair lines, double chins, male pattern baldness, and bags under the eyes characterized the once coveted athletes I used to date.
Some claimed to be “in a relationship,” but judging from their badly taken self portraits, I couldn’t understand how this was possible.
Scolding myself for being so shallow, I admitted there was a possibility that these once handsome men could very well have turned out to be exceptional human beings.
Ashamed of myself for fixating on their physical appearance, I relinquished the laptop to the Son and stepped into the kitchen to make another pot of coffee.
“So, are any of your exes candidates for the cover of GQ magazine?”
“No. More like for the cover of National Geographic.”
“That bad, huh?”
The Son was still laughing when I put the mocha pot on the stove.
And so was I.
What started out as a giggle, turned into a thigh slapping, hearty, belly laugh.
I laughed as I remembered the times many of them had said, “I want to break up.”
I laughed for having been silly enough to cry and think the world had come to an end.
I laughed at the realization that everything happens for a reason.
I laughed because if I had Facebook, my status update today would be: “Mark, Steve, Fernando, Tony, Lucas, Michael, Danny, Giles, Edward, and Enrique, who’s laughing now?”
Note: Names have been changed to protect the innocent.