Still, I was pissed, mainly because she’d kept up the correspondence with me and not admitted she already knew me. She allowed me to believe she was a stranger I could confide in, someone far removed from my everyday life. It was one thing to simply not tell me she was The Socialmedialite—that was the part I expected—but it was another entirely to write to me day after day, pretending to be someone else. That part took effort and secrecy and a certain level of duplicitousness.
These were my thoughts up until I met her in the park yesterday for a run. She’d spilled her guts to me, and I couldn’t help but be heartbroken for her, wrap my arms around her, and let her soft body sink into mine. I wanted to be angry, but I just couldn’t hold onto it.
I understood Annie’s reasons for being the way she was too well. And then I had another epiphany. I thought that maybe, just maybe, Annie wasn’t being duplicitous by keeping her secret. Perhaps this was the only way she could truly be herself and get to know me without her anxiety getting in the way. She needed the veil. The distance. The electronic safety net.
It went without saying that my conversations with The Socialmedialite were far more open than my dealings with Annie in person. So, after I left her to go to work yesterday, I made a decision. I would allow Annie her safety net for a while longer. I wouldn’t tell her I knew her secret just yet because that way we got the best of both worlds. We’d still have the electronic avenue of communication, the one where she was confident and spoke her mind. And then we’d also have the in-person avenue, where I could delight in being around her and teasingly coax her out of her shell.
Speaking of Annie’s “electronic” life, I’ve been finding myself reading her blog more and more, working my way through her back catalog like it was a book I couldn’t wait to reach the end of. Reading her posts made me warm to her that much more because, despite my original impressions, Annie’s articles weren’t the same as most of the celebrity gossip trash out there. They were witty and intelligent; they poked fun at egos and hypocrisy instead of weight gain and tawdry personal lives.
In one article earlier this year, she wrote about a hip hop artist buying himself a $40 million gold-plated car while at the same time advocating a campaign to raise money for the victims of natural disasters. Annie asked, why not just donate the pointless, garish excuse for a motor vehicle to the victims before pleading with everyday working people to give up their hard-earned cash? Take that money in your mouth, and set a good freaking example!!!
And then late last year, a celebrity phone-hacking scandal had hit the headlines, and the world’s media was condemning a number of actresses and singers for saving racy nude pictures and videos to their phones. Annie stated, Anybody, anywhere, at any time, should be allowed to save whatever the hell they want to their phones without those files being stolen and showcased to the entire world. I don’t care if you’re an Oscar-winning actress or a fry-cook at McDonald’s, nobody’s personal privacy should ever be invaded like this, never mind spread across the Internet to be picked apart, criticized, and condemned. Is it possible, just this once, to NOT blame the victim?
Reading all this was confusing. Not only did I think she was beautiful and remarkable in real life; but behind her quiet fa?ade she was insanely clever, and she had the balls to stand up for what she believed in. She had principles, and they were the kind I respected immensely. I admired her.
So now, I stared at the screen displaying her last message to me as The SML and deliberated on a reply. The stream of conversation between us had gone silent for the last few days. I needed to figure out just the right way to start it back up. Her coming out and admitting that she liked me made me preen like a bloody peacock. I began to type.
March 21
9:45 a.m.
Dear SML,
First off, my apologies for the radio silence. As you can probably guess, I’ve had a lot on my plate the last few days. I’m trying to be less impulsive, less easily drawn into anger, so it took a lot to sit back once Brona’s story came out. Anyway, I’m trying not to fixate on it.
So, you like me, huh?
I’d like to say I’m surprised, but it’s obvious that your previous insulting messages were a prime example of a schoolyard crush. Ma always said that the girls only called me names because they fancied me ;-)
Unfortunately for you, my affections lie with another. However, if you’d like to win me over, you’re welcome to send some racy pictures (even if they’re only of your boobilicious mermaid tat.)
Don’t be a stranger.
Ronan
I hit “send,” wondering how Annie would reply.
She still thought I had no idea who The SML was, so I made it clear there was somebody I liked. As well—though I’d liked The Socialmedialite and had enjoyed our exchanges—since meeting Annie in person, seeing how adorable and beautiful she was, I had eyes and thoughts for no one else.
I should have been clear earlier with her online persona, but I’d always been a flirt when I wasn’t dating someone. However, now I took pains to make certain The Socialmedialite—and therefore Annie—didn’t think I was chasing her in the real world while trying to get my jollies with some anonymous online bird at the same time. About a half hour later, I got a response.
March 21
10:22a.m.
Ronan!
How have you been? If it weren’t for the fact that you and your new squeeze have been splashed all over the Internets, I might have thought you fell down a well or something. Because that happens all the time, right? Lol. When I was a child, I used to think that getting struck by lightning was one of the main causes of death amongst humans.
So, you and this Annie girl, eh? I have to say, despite wanting you all for myself, I’m liking her, and from what I’ve read, everybody else does, too. Sometimes the public can be overly critical of the non-famous girlfriends of celebrities, because you know, jealousy and all that. So it’s a really good thing that people are embracing her. I read an article today on a very popular site questioning Brona’s story, since she hasn’t brought forth any evidence of her claims. I think you’re well on your way to being in the clear.
And not to worry about my little crush. I will harbor it with both grace and zero hard feelings.
Your chum,
The SML
P.S. I saw those pictures of you and Annie kissing in the park yesterday. Holy shit, they were hot! My mermaid may have had some happy time in the shower after seeing them. Enjoy the visual.
I was grinning like a fool by the time I got to the end of her message. Annie had a wicked side, I’d give her that. Still, the body of her message had been too casual and friendly, and I craved something more. This was why I pulled out my phone and typed a message to the real Annie.
Ronan: I miss your taste. Come over.
Her reply was almost immediate.
Annie: I’m working. You’ll see me tonight.
Oh, no way was she getting off that easily. I went into full-on sext mode.
Ronan: I want to make you come with my mouth.
Annie: Ronan! I’m at the office and Gerta is RIGHT BESIDE ME!
Ronan: Gotta say, that kinda makes it hotter.
Annie: squints eyes Do you have a thing for Gerta?
Ha! I knew she didn’t like how friendly I’d gotten with her assistant.
Ronan: Jealous, love?
It took a while for her to answer that one, and I liked to imagine she was cursing how transparent she’d been.
Annie: No.
Ronan: Good, because it’s not Gerta’s tits I fantasize about coming all over.
Another long pause. She’d seen the message, but she wasn’t typing back yet. Then finally her response came.
Annie: Please stop texting me. Gerta thinks I might be coming down with the flu. Your last text caused a coughing fit.
Ronan: Got you thinking, though, didn’t it? ;-)
Annie: Yes. Too much. You’re too much.
Ronan: I’ve actually been told I’m just the right amount :-D Admit it, you’re missing me as much as I’m missing you.
Annie: Maybe. Just a little.
Ronan: Tell me what you miss about me.
There was an even longer pause this time. I could just imagine her fretting over whether or not to indulge me.
Annie: I miss how you smell. How your body feels against mine.