Ones and Zeros

A crush I had, freshman year at University, we'll call her Bruce, owns a Snuggie. I haven't spoken to Bruce for the better part of a decade, but through occasional searches over the past eight years, I've learned she changed schools twice, been married, and by discovering her new last-name, have found her blog. She just got back from a vacation to Mexico, and has remodeled her kitchen. Now, the blog is obviously meant for public viewing, but I wouldn't have found it had I not googled her with enough frequency to have found her online wedding announcement. Reading about her life makes me feel both giddy and guilty.

Yes, I once entertained notions of reconnecting with Bruce, but they were only fantasies. The idea that I could email, or call her under any pretense is absurd. I'm not in the mood for a restraining order. She would have every right to ask how I knew her last name had changed, and I wouldn't have a suitable answer.
But who hasn't googled old friends and lovers? Bruce was my first real crush, and while it was brief, it was (for me, anyway) memorably intense.

We're a nation of voyeurs. Youtube, blogs, twitter, TMZ, high-powered telescopes; all are designed around our insatiable desire to observe, deconstruct and analyze any lives other than our own. They've even considered changing the Constitution's Preamble to 'We the peep-hole.' That's classic transference, but there's an immutable truth to it. Somehow, reading Bruce's blog, and her honest accounts and portrayal of her life makes me feel refreshed, like I'm getting to know her in ways I never could have when we were younger. She's built a door to her life, and I've managed to pick the lock, and hide my tracks. I guess nobody is the wiser through the anonymity of an Internet connection.