Deep breath. Unblock. Add friend. Now I wait.
My heart pounds in anticipation as the minutes pass by. This’ll be the sixth time I’ve gone brought this process with him. I wonder why he still wordlessly accepts my friend requests, but I’m certainly not going to say anything to him unless he brings it up first. And maybe even then, I won’t answer, and I’ll just block him again and start the process over once more several months from now.
Within half an hour, he accepts my request, and I open his highly private Facebook profile, which was now accessible to me once more. I scroll through his posts from the past few weeks, ignoring the “About tab”. I don’t want to see the thing that I already know.
As always, his profile is the opposite of mine. Mine is consistently filled with posts about charities, workers rights, political matters of all sorts, and of course, news stories about animals being cute. One was even about a play that I had been cast in. His was full of posts about his daily life, with tons of likes and comments. My posts rarely got any at all. He posted jokes and memes, along with photos of his pet rats and his long term boyfriend.
God, he was beautiful.