Facebook told me I had a friend request today. You know how it works: you scroll down and see a bunch of random people who know friends of yours. The last time I accepted a friend request from a friend-of-a-friend I recieved a lightning fast message about some Multi-level marketing bullshit thing. It was too fast in coming for it to have been anything but a programmed message, a bot. Really? Does that work for you? Are you getting loads of responses to your creepy af message? I didn’t work in my case. I’ll unfriend in a few weeks, I guess.
Amongst the randoms was one that wasn’t so random. A guy who used to work for me, a friend, I guess. He was French, so we bonded over that and over food. A mutual love of food, although I don’t know if he ever forgave me for being a vegetarian.
I had seen his request a few months ago but I didn’t respond at the time. I don’t venture over to Facebook very often and I have a bit of a love-hate thing going on with it. It can be a cess-pool, sure, but I’ve got thousands of followers over there, people who love Paris as much as I do, so I’ve found as long as I limit my exposure to the cess part of the pool I’m okay. I’ve developed the ability to see a post about something I disagreed with and keep scrolling. It’s life-changing shit, believe me.
So today I posted a pretty picture, responded to a bunch of sweet comments about how lovely Paris is and looked at a few other Paris-themed pages. It’s a sickness for which there is no cure, I fear. And there was his request. Eric wants to be my friend…and I can’t respond now, because I have just found out that he is dead. At 48, his heart gave out. That’s the same age as me. I wonder what we would have talked about had I accepted his request months ago when I first saw it. I’ll never know. RIP Eric.