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by Ryan
1-16-06
I’m going to tell you a tale. A tale of love, betrayal, deception, controversy, but above all else, this is a tale about heartbreak. As many of you know, I am the new king of Facebook. I reside on my Facebook throne, decorated gloriously with the numerous pokes and countless friends, and friends of friends, and even a grand list of people I have never even met. It was almost too easy to soon become the unrivaled ‘Prime Administer of Facebook Awesomeness.’ Considering for the longest time I loathed the Facebook for the petty hierarchy of online associates it creates, I find it humorous that I have made fools of everyone by so quickly becoming the greatest thing that has ever happened to anyone… ANYONE! Then one day I caught the eye of a young lass, who quickly fell in love with my social prowess and how humble I am despite all of my numerous successes.
Even though I receive love letters from various women on a daily basis, I received a letter from what had to be a goddess of sweet elegiac poetry. The words from this letter drew me in like no other letter had before. The words from this letter pulled my heart in all directions, I could hardly stand it! “These are the words of an angel!” I thought, as I read what had to be the greatest email I have ever received:
ryan,
I'm a NYTimes reporter doing a story on Facebook backlash. I LOVED your
photo concoction. Can we reprint it? Call ###-###-#### or email.
N
(For the sake of this lady’s privacy, we’ll refer to her as Nancy
Hass.)
I didn’t know what to say. Normally all my letters from females go along the lines of “Ryan, please, please, pleaaaaasse make out with me!” and then I send back a simple “Let’s rock.” But this letter stands alone in its fineness. I meditate for hours on end, only to muster up this response:
Nancy,
I love you too! We are going to be so happy together! I have everything planned
out for us! We are going to run away to a ranch Texas on top of a hill that
looks over a lake where we will have 3 dogs named Cletus, Dirtfoot, and Scropher!
Then we will have 9 kids! I have them all named too! The 4 boys will be named
Courtney, Ashley, Aaron and Ryan, while the 4 girls will be named Courtenay,
Ashleigh, Erin and Ryanne! And then we’ll have a 9th child of questionable
gender named Dingleflask!
I will always love you,
Ryan
I awaited for my soul mate’s response for days, but they felt like years. Then finally, fate blessed me with another chance to read the words of the woman I would spend the rest of my life with:
did you really
join facebook? I want to look at your profile for real.
What's you last name?
N
She thinks I’m too good to be true! She doesn’t believe that someone as witty and beautiful as myself actually exists! I respond with:
Nancy,
Oh, my precious little dove! My last name is going to be the same as yours
as soon as we get married! Nancy Stephens, it has a terrific ring to it, doesn’t
it? I sure hope that you’re hot because the ceremony is non-refundable.
I’m calling you right now!
Ryan
The three minutes we talked on the phone was what I could only describe as a “little slice of heaven, where everything just seems perfect and you wish that things could stay this way forever”*
Needless to say,
we became Facebook friends, which is only a few steps short of honoring each
other’s lives in the sanctity of marriage. She said that my picture
would be in the New York Times on January 8th, a Sunday! What an opportunity,
I thought. Mark and I discussed the possibilities of all the press theauburner.com
would get if it was spread throughout the world on what is one of the most
read newspapers in America! Mark says “Dude, there will be hundreds
of thousands of copies of your nipples in print!” Do you know how many
aspiring models would kill for such a chance? I was on cloud nine. I was in
love, theauburner.com was on its way to being one of the most popular and
well-known websites in the universe, and Auburn had just spanked Bama in the
Iron Bowl.
Things hardly get any better than that.
Therefore the
only logical direction my life could go was in a downward spiral. First of
all, Auburn didn’t show up and got whooped by Wisconsin in the Capital
One Bowl. Then January 8th rolled around, and I rush to the gas station where
there were New York Times newspapers readily available. The freakin’
thing costs $5! This better be worth it! I open the newspaper to find this:
That is not me! I’ve been backstabbed by my one true love! I have been
replaced by… a space pirate?!? That should be me up there! That should
be my face, and my information! I had to get to the bottom of this. I wrote
Nancy a final letter:
Nancy,
How could you do this to me? How long have you and the Space Pirate been talking
behind my back? Does this satisfy you? Tormenting a poor, devastatingly attractive
man and getting his hopes up only to crush him! Why Nancy, Why! I have been
stabbed in the back!
Ryan
She never responded. I didn’t leave my room for two weeks and listened to nothing but “Everybody Hurts” by REM and “Love Stinks” by J. Geils Band. What the heck, I also listened to “Hold My Hand” by Hootie, because that song will brighten anyone’s day. Needless to say, I am a horrible wreck right now, theauburner.com is in shambles and I have gained 10 pounds of depression induced fat. This is what I look like now that my soul has been grated into a heartbreak taco.
Luckily, my now horrid appearance mixed with heartbreak translates perfectly
into pure, unadulterated ROCK! My next monster ballad will be called “A
Space Pirate Stole My Booty”
Good luck, Space Pirate. I wish you and Nancy the best.
The Space Pirate guy has a website too, check out his take at: http://www.legatissimo.info/node/204
Ryan can be contacted at
ryan@theauburner.com
*quote taken from Amy Player
