I'm a Dirty Birdy

A friend and I were recently discussing mean things we had done to people from our pasts. It reminded me of this story. Don't stop loving me...

About 15 years ago when I first moved to the town where I currently reside, I made friends with another guy my age online. As luck would have it, we were both going to be attending the same local university. We talked online all summer, eventually on the phone and got to be friends (or so I thought). One day while talking about our class schedules, it turned out that we had a class (Human Sexuality) together. We made plans to meet at the entrance of the bldg. our class was in, so we could finally meet and sit together. He asked for a picture, promising to reciprocate (which he never did). When it came time for class (it was a big class in an auditorium), he knew what I looked like, but I didn't know what he looked like. I waited at the entrance we'd designated, but he never showed, yet I got the distinct feeling someone was watching me in class...

After class, we had to sign in on the roll sheets that were taped up at the back of the auditorium (to show we had attended). I saw that his name was still on the roster AND he'd been in class and signed in...yet he never acknowledged me! I e-mailed him and said I was sorry I missed him (giving him the benefit of the doubt), but he never talked to me again, online or otherwise. I was fuming! So...

At the time, I worked at a nearby video store and out of boredom one day, I typed in his last name to see if he rented at our store (we both lived in the area, so it was a shot in the dark). As it turned out, his parents had an account and he was listed as one of the renters. I jotted down his info for safe keeping.

As fate would have it, he hadn't "come out" yet and the university had a student chapter of GLA (it was 'GLA' at the time: Gay/Lesbian Association....now I think it's called the GLBTA: Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/Transgender Association...oy vey). I acquired some university stationery from the art dept. office, typed up a letter welcoming him to the GLA, enclosed some PFLAG (Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) brochures and sent it to his parents.

I like to think I helped simplify the inevitable.

*The first in a series of well-deserved dirty deeds.