Oh The Douchebaggery

I have moved around a lot.

I suppose some of the times the destinations have been legit.
Parents divorce, I moved to a state with a lower cost of living, I went to college...blah, blah...natural progression.

But the majority of my moves were solely based on fanciful impetus.
Here are some of the major reasons I have abruptly left one state for another:

My friend slammed my head into a car door and I was so pissed I decided to ditch town.
I really liked a song about the place.
My out-of-state friend was lonely and swore we'd be the prettiest girls there..

The list goes on.

Along the way I have made some friends, joined a few circles, and vagabonded my way out of dodge.

Every once in a while a person from my past suddenly materializes and we end up engaging in some stilted rehash of our past, regardless of how little time we actually spent together.

This used to happen often via myspace when I used my real name.
It always made me feel awkward when I would get a friend request from someone I barely remembered or someone I outright disliked.

Long story short, I dropped that account.
Now both my myspace and facebook accounts are under pseudonyms.
The people I talk to on there are actual friends.

So, imagine my dismay when I was walking to the store the other day and ran into a girl who grew up right down the street from me.

One in a million chance here, as I grew up in South Carolina and now live almost 1000 miles away.

I also rejected her as a friend on aforementioned legitimate, now defunct, myspace page.

Uncomfortable!

I'm not an asshole.
I just always found this girl unbearably boring.

You know those types who have absolutely no opinion about anything. They never make a joke. If you go out with them they cling to you like so much saran wrap.

Imagine this scenario...
You go to a movie.
Afterwards, as so often happens upon exit, you give the show your own review.
Something like,
"Wow, those special effects were so sub-par. Talk about suspension of disbelief! And that story line must have been written by a fifth-grader. I mean why did all the women from planet Zortron look exactly like Victoria Secret models? And do you really believe that Liv Tyler would end up with Steve Buscemi?".

And boring friend opines, "Yeah".

Period.

So, I am standing outside the store just trying to think of things to say.
I am asking open-ended questions, attempting to get an ounce of reciprocation from a clearly dead horse.
I was so bored I could have taken a nap right there on the curb.

Talk about "blanket" statements! Oh, I am bad!

It maybe lasted five minutes but felt like mother-effin forever...so I did what I had to do...

I pretended I had an appointment and gave her my number, promising to "catch up".

Dear lord.
Please don't punish me for giving out false digits.