Fakebook
Page 14
Dave Cicirelli Wow, Elizabeth. I know you want what’s best for me, but I think you want a happy ending for the “love story” a little bit more. If I get back together with Kate, I’ll humiliate myself.
2 hours ago via mobile · Like
Elizabeth Lee Well…loving someone is putting yourself out there…you’re vulnerable. But, at the end of the day, if you love Kate, then screw everyone else. They aren’t out there (wherever you are at the moment) living life by your side. They’re just here…on Facebook, making comments. As cheesy as it sounds, follow your heart.
about an hour ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli Is loving her enough?
about an hour ago via mobile · Like
Alula Medhen Well Dave, there’s a couple ways to look at this. There are those who don’t believe in life after love, but I say love’s a battlefield, you gotta know when to hold em, when to fold em, and when to walk away.
45 minutes ago via mobile · Like
Graciela Meza Alula, wouldn’t that mean love is like a poker game?
44 minutes ago via mobile · Like
Alula Medhen Hey Graciela, long time…what I meant by invoking the wisdom of Kenny Rogers was it’s time for Dave to cut his losses before he bets the farm (figuratively speaking)…I think a better game to compare love to would be roulette, one minute you’ve got it all and the next you’re routing through dumpsters looking for a hot meal…
38 minutes ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli In my case, I dug through the dumpster looking for my next hot meal while my relationship was at its strongest. The open question is, which Morrissey song best sums up my experiences?
9 minutes via mobile · Like
Alula Medhen I’ll concede that one. I know better than to argue with you about anything even vaguely Morrissey. If the question is simply which song by any artist best sums up your experiences, I’d say even parts Offspring’s “Self-Esteem” and the Buzzcocks’ “Ever Fallen in Love”, baked in a nice “Where Is My Mind” by the Pixies, topped with Cake’s “I Will Survive” and just a dash of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made For Walkin.” For pep.
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Stephen Ortez holy shit the above statement is awesome!
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Seeing all these comments, I couldn’t help but feel weirdly embarrassed for Fake Dave and his (sort of) girlfriend. They were being judged—even told what to do—by people whose understanding of the situation amounted to little more than having seen a change in “Relationship Status.”
Fake Dave was mixed up, confused, and possibly in love. His life was in flux and he was looking for something to hold on to. That had been Kate, but then she’d proven to be fool’s gold… It was a lot to deal with. Sure, their relationship had started in a weird place, with Kate running away from Amish country and inviting herself on Fake Dave’s journey after he vandalized her family’s horse and buggy…but what unfolded was a shared experience. The bum fights and freight-hopping must have brought them together in a way only they could understand. Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe Kate’s cheating was her reaction to an emotionally distant boyfriend who’d never moved his relationship status past “It’s Complicated.”
Either way, somehow, Tone Del Vecchio’s “Nice!” seemed like an inadequate response.
As I looked over the spectacle and put myself in Fake Dave’s shoes to gauge the best way to respond, I began to remember what it was like to have my heart broken, trying to make sense of conflicting feelings and wavering convictions. Above all, I remembered the need to talk to anyone who would listen. Without Kate as his confidante and with the bridge to his family burned down, Facebook was the only outlet Fake Dave had. It was his only sense of community.
So he posted…a lot. He posted his feelings as they came, no matter how fleeting. But moments don’t pass on Facebook, they just move down your news feed. When his audience saw the inevitable contradictions compressed into just a few inches of digital space, some saw a hypocrite.
I’d spent the past three months telling stories about Fake Dave’s selfish behavior, desperately trying to court people’s judgment of him. By accident, I’d finally succeeded—and it was the one time he didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t imagine the isolation he felt. All I could picture was him curling up in his tent and playing The Smiths’ “I Know It’s Over” on loop for hours on end. That’s what I would have done, if I’d had his life and my playlist.
Interestingly, the din of opinion did benefit one relationship—Fake Dave and I had made it through our rough patch, and we were getting along better than ever. I became sympathetic to his misfortunes and found him more relatable with every passing moment. In the spirit of my own initially dismissive attitude toward quiet suburban life, he’d been quick to abandon the tangible for the abstract “something else.”
For the first time he was seeing the value of what he’d given up, just as I was seeing the value of what I’d rejected. Now we were both paying out the hidden cost of our longing.
In a note entitled “Roots vs. Wings,” he wrote:
JANUARY 5: Roots vs. Wings
In my heart of hearts I wanted to be home for Christmas.
But have you ever walked through your old high school? It feels familiar and foreign at the same time. You may be back in your old desk, but you aren’t back in class. You were once a part of the environment, but now you can only visit.
I can go back to New York, or even New Jersey, but home is both a time and a place. While the place may remain, the time has long since passed. So it wouldn’t be home, and I wouldn’t be the same person.
I’ve learned that you can have roots or you can have wings, but you can’t have both.
Maybe one day I’ll land somewhere and new roots will grow into a new home, but for now I’m adrift.
The theme of roots vs. wings began to move Fake Dave’s story forward again. In the early days, he’d walked with an aimless ambition, the desire to court adventure; now he sought substance. He felt changed but also lost. And I figured the added turbulence of his love life and the stress of his burgeoning self-doubt would be more than enough justification for his increasingly erratic behavior and poor judgment.
Dave Cicirelli
I think I’m going to get a tattoo today.
Like · Comment
Danny Ross bad. ass.
yesterday via mobile · Like
Anthony Del Monte I don’t know you anymore.
yesterday via mobile · Like
Joe Moscone A dream catcher on the small of your back?
yesterday via mobile · Like
Ted Kaiser Tramp stamp?
yesterday via mobile · Like
Jennifer Huang If a guy gets one, is it still called a tramp stamp?
22 hours ago via mobile · Like
Danny Ross It’s called a trampo stampo in spanish, for boys. For girls: trampa stampa.
22 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli I never thought about a tramp stamp. What a great way to let people know I’m down to party!
19 hours ago via mobile · Like
Matt Campbell Think it through dude, Make sure the design is what you want, now and in the future. Don’t just pick the Indian song cuz you’re in Arizona.
17 hours ago via mobile · Like
Justin Blaser How about a freight car, like the one that took you to AZ…
14 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli Freight car’s kinda cool. It has meaning without pretension. I kinda like that.
12 hours ago via mobile · Like
Matt Campbell Mr. Peanut. That’s classy and fancy.
11 hours ago via mobile · Like
Trish Acciavatti TRAMP STAMP
11 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli The pr
oblem with the Tramp Stamp is I’d have to start buying midriff-baring shirts. I think that may make me too sexy to handle. I want girls to think I’m approachable.
11 hours ago via mobile · Like
Trish Acciavatti Or, you just find instances where you’ll have to bend over a lot.
You could also get some sort of tribal tattoo band around your arm. Those are always cool. ahahahahahahahah
Or you could embrace the Jersey Shore attitude and get an Italian Flag on your back…
All good options.
10 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli What I have in mind is almost as goofy. I’m having second thoughts, but it makes me smile. My Dad’s going to completely disown me.
10 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli WAIT! SPONSORSHIP OPPORTUNITIES?!
3 hours ago via mobile · Like
Michèle Malejki In tribute to old Simpsons, be like Bart and attempt to get that “Mother” tattoo…then get interrupted halfway, so you only have “Moth”. What a throwback…
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli That’s what I like about you, Malejki, you’re a season 1 kind of gal.
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Jonathan Tatkon-Coker get a unicorn with a dolphin jumping over its right side and a rainbow going over its left side, all as a tramp stamp.
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Joe Moscone You’re going to be the hit of the cell block.
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli
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Joe Moscone Please tell me you got the Super Grover logo on your chest!
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Rolando Alvarado Yeah…That’s about right.
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Katia Tron LOL
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Elizabeth Lee I’m with Katia on this! That pic is hilarious!
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli I’m glad I went with a funny tattoo, since all the girls are laughing at me anyway…
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Chris Mitarotondo so i’m pretty sure that this is a tattoo of michael jackson’s glove
less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli
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Ara Arnn You are truly a gentleman of wealth and taste!
4 hours ago · Like
Jeff Shaw Dude, that is effing ridiculous. Is this your formal birthday suit? *rim shot* Thank you! Don’t forget to tip your waitress!
P.S. You DO know tattoos are permanent, right?
4 hours ago via mobile · Like
Yolanda Paskovich Whoa!!! Dave, is that real?!
4 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli An ascot didn’t work as a tattoo. That was my first choice.
4 hours ago via mobile · Like
Michèle Malejki Phenomenal.
4 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli The thing is, and I really gave it some thought, it’s going to be adorable when I’m an old man.
4 hours ago via mobile · Like
Jenna Taylor Please tell me you’re getting a pocket watch and chain tattooed down your leg.
3 hours ago via mobile · Like
Ted Kaiser i hope that’s henna.
3 hours ago via mobile · Like
Dave Cicirelli Ted, let me explain what “peacocking” is. By creating visual interest, I’ll easily attract a new mate.
Haven’t you heard of the professional lover “Mystery?” He’s a weirdo who used goggles and other Carrot Top props to score with women who have confidence issues.
But seriously, it’s bitchin’.
3 hours ago via mobile · Like
Brendan McDermott I remember “Mystery.” He apparently got mad chicks cuz he was “alpha” and had props. Girls like props.
3 hours ago via mobile · Like
Chris Mitarotondo no michael jackson glove, no love
2 hours ago via mobile · Like
Joe Moscone Thank you, Dave. For the rest of my life, I’ll be telling the story of my friend who lost his mind and up and quit his job to walk aimlessly across the country, leaving his family and friends behind only to allow himself to fall in love with an Amish parasite AND…get a ridiculous bow tie tattoo.
2 hours ago via mobile · Like
Steve Cuchinello I’ll second Joe on that…my god.
2 hours ago via mobile · Like
Daniel Timek I imagine you sitting your kids down one day, and then a couple weeks later you finish up the story of how you got this tattoo.
about an hour ago via mobile · Like
Elizabeth Lee Well, I’ll give you one thing…it’ll be cute when you’re an old man.
about an hour ago via mobile · Like
Joe Moscone Elizabeth, let’s be serious—how many guys with chest/throat tattoos live to be “old men”? As if the cards weren’t already stacked against Dave living a long life, this all but seals his fate…I fear in another couple of months, Dave’s FB updates will be nothing more than “Hey, can someone Western Union me some cash. My veins are itchy and I REALLY need a fix.”
about an hour ago via mobile · Like
Anthony Del Monte dave im sorry but after seeing that i think im going to delete u on FB…
less than a minute ago · Like
Dave Cicirelli Come on, Tone. Not every tattoo needs an Italian Flag on it.
just now via mobile · Like
The funny side story of awful-amazing neck art aside, the way Fake Dave’s new perspective resonated with my audience didn’t surprise me, but the way it resonated with me did. For the first time, Fakebook also became an outlet for my own anxiety, as the idea of roots vs. wings lingered in my mind.
My sense was that I had neither. Living in New York felt like trying to grow roots in a raging river, where people passed through but never stayed put. Needless to say, I had a lot to think about during my twice-delayed flight back to New York after New Year’s Eve. I stared out the window at the blinking red light on the wing of the plane and thought back on my own romantic history.
The truth is, I’m no good at relationships. I think the reason is that I don’t handle ambiguity very well. That uncertain stage before all the cards are on the table is crippling for the overly analytical like me. The vast majority of my relationships were either long, drawn-out false starts or short-lived, low-stakes flings. I mean, I broke up my fictional relationship out of jealousy—I could stand to be a little more self-assured.
And while I’m perfectly familiar with the hazards of nostalgia, that night I gave in and thought about the girls who got away and the girls I’d chased away. It’s always been easy for me to canonize them, and maybe, for a moment, that’s what I did. The truth is, I don’t really know what I meant to them, and I don’t have the courage to ask.
But it’s not just our memories of the past that we need to manage—these days we have to cope with the present. Our profiles have us living in plain sight of one another; we don’t even need to indulge in Facebook stalking to see how our old flames have moved on. For example, I never asked to see photos of my ex-girlfriend, Laurie, hanging out with a bunch of hot surfer dudes in Australia—as it was happening. But one day, there they were on top of my news feed, stirring up old feelings.
Witnessing the next phase of Laurie’s love life unfolding at that very moment—from literally the opposite end of the Earth—created a surreal hyper-present. I’d moved on long ago, and she was completely within her rights to hang out with hot surfer dudes. But I didn’t need to see it happening. Nor would she have been so cruel as to post them with the po
int of me finding out. I knew I was the furthest thing from her mind that night, just as she was the furthest from mine before the photos were passively presented on my news feed. But these snippets of unsolicited information still felt oddly pressing because I knew it was happening right now.
There comes a point when the past should be the past, when you need to get out of each other’s orbit and escape that unintentional influence, those obstacles to new opportunities. But social media makes that almost impossible. How can we expect someone to be out of mind if they are never out of sight?
I didn’t know what kind of impact this could have. I just wanted to not think about it anymore.
When I finally touched down, I walked outside the terminal through the bitter cold toward the JFK Air Train, which would connect me to the subway system for a long but inexpensive trip home.
Steps from the platform, I noticed a woman struggling to get her luggage cart over the curb.
“Do you need a hand?”
She turned around, and her blue-green eyes offset by her light-brown complexion caught me completely off guard. Standing nearly six feet tall, she was utterly stunning. “That’s very sweet of you,” she said. “Were you on the flight from Chicago? The delayed one?”
“Sure was. I’ve been on worse, though.”
“Me, too. My name’s Dhara.”
“I’m Dave.”
We began to chat, exchanging stories of delayed flight trauma. She seemed completely at ease, even though I’m sure I was tripping over my words. About halfway through one story, a train pulled up.