Yes, that's less conspicuous

Every once and a while, I'll see an older person with spots of red on his beard, or near his temple. The other day, in the bakery, I saw an elderly man with his entire head dyed fire engine red.

In Africa, red tinged hair is a marker of advanced malnutrition. I asked one of my Pakistani work colleagues what that was all about. He laughed and said, "Oh that's just men trying to hide their grey hair with henna."

Fire engine red?

Yes, he said, they think it's more sophisticated.

It's alot of things, but sophisticated is not one that springs to mind.

*Sigh*

While I've warmed up considerably to Pakistan - especially during the long beautiful drive between Islamabad and Lahore today - there have been challenges this week.

One of the dimensions I'm struggling with over here is both an age and cultural gap between myself and one of our staff members. He's 30 years older than I, and was once in the Pakistani army. As such, although extremely accomodating and solicitious, every once and while he says something that has me stewing.

We're eating alot of greasy food, with limited healty options, and we're all starting to feel the bloat. One evening, he gave me hard time about becoming so fat that when I returned no one in the office would recognize me.

Last night, I was a "good little girl" for having a salad at Subway (yes - he made us go to Subway in the land of biryani, kabab and chicken jalfrazi). He thought I might not get so fat now.

Then, he went on to disparage post-partum women, declaring that "so many of them let themselves go and become fat"(I wanted to ask him if he'd ever tried carrying around a 7lb baby without gaining any weight, but I judiciously held my tongue).

This morning I was "too young" to represent our company in a meeting with a large bank. Well, more accurately, he made a wide generalization about how young our group is to be going to this Bank (one is 40, one is 35 and I am 29. Spring chickens we're not) and then, so that we all got it, pointed at me and said "I'm talking about you."

Honestly, at this point, I've been frustrated so many times that I can't do anything now than just hold my tongue and laugh at the next crazy thing he says. Tonight he grilled me on how I was going to wear my dupatta (head scarf). Tomorrow it will probably be about how fat I am again.

On the other hand, he has done some wonderful things (negotiating with a trade for me on a beautiful piece of Afghani jewlery) and is genuinely concerned that I enjoy my time here.

Thing is, I can't enjoy myself if I'm constantly being grilled.

*sigh*

Notes on.....Everything

People keep telling me that Islamabad is like the "Disney Land" of Pakistan - ie not real. There is a long wide boulevard and the streets are pretty clean. It's January, so everything is stubbly and brown, but judging by the amount of pruned rose bushes I see, it's probably a beautiful city in the summer time. The first day we were here, it was dark and cold, but subsequent days have been sunny and downright cheerful.

There are people around, but not throngs. There is traffic, but not gridlock. I was telling a friend over skype tonight that thus far, Islamabad to me has been a series of conference rooms, guesthouses, one extremely nice hotel (the Serena), and several concrete strip malls. Needless to say, I don't see that I've gotten a very good "feel" for the country.

Tomorrow, we leave for Lahore, the capital of Punjab and the second largest city. Punjab is considered the breadbasket of Pakistan, but mostly what it makes me thing of is the guy from Little Orphan Annie.

(Yes, I am culturally sensitive, thankyouverymuch)

And for all the hype about how dangerous it is here, I don't feel like a Threatened Woman. I haven't had much more than the random photograph taken, or stared at. I'm not cowering in my bed at night, waiting to be taken by mullahs. I haven't been groped, or even leered at.

I know that most women have it tough here. I don't want to down play acid throwing, honor killings (known as karo kari) and the treatment of women as commodities. There are real and undeniable inequalities, even among so called "upper class". I'm currently reading "My Feudal Lord" by Tehemina Durrani, who describes her destructive marriage to Mustafa Khar, influential Punjabi politician in the late 70's and early 80's. For lack of a longer description, he basically beats the tar out of her for 10 years - and she takes it because she feels she has no other choice.

I'm of two minds reading this book - at once fascinated at stupidity of her thinking (through my western lense, I find her reasons for staying just....heartbreaking) and revulsed by the cruelness of Paksitani men and patriarchal underpinnings of their society.

Isn't this the image that we're all used to seeing? The scary, dominant, Middle Eastern, tyrant man? It was sitting in a row of similar titles like "Behind the Veil" or "Honeymoon in Purdah" or "My Kurdish Tyrant" or "A Summer's Eve in Kabul" or.....you get the point. There's not so much good press about Middle Eastern/Subcontinent men.

So I have to wonder, are there any good men in Pakistan? Judging by the press, I'd say not. But, I can't believe this is true.

I don't know where I'm going with this except - don't believe everything you read, about Pakistan or otherwise. Go there, experience it and draw conclusions for yourself.

Tomorrow - Lahore!

Houssain? I am!

It was interesting watching Obama's inauguration from my Islamabad hotel tonight. It's no suprise that Obama is popular the world over - especially in the in the Muslim world. In fact, the media claims that Obama has ties to Pakistan (if you count having Pakistani friends as "ties". .....Whatever that means.)

Anyway, although this trip is more than a little awkward, it's made less so by the fact that now the world doesn't hate our President.

Woo hoo!

Pakistan, Day Two: Sophmoric and Uneventful.

Today was completely uneventful.

I got up at 5:15, and had breakfast in the hotel cafe. Then, I sat in a conference room until 2pm. Went back to the cafe and had lunch. Then, sat in the conference room.

Somewhere around 5:00, I went upstairs and had a twenty-minute nap.

Then, it was back to the conference room.

We finished around 7:30.

Luckily, I was able to talk Rashid into taking us out for dinner at a BBQ place. We passed one called "Butt BBQ" and I couldn't stop giggling. Perhaps they only serve rump roast...?

That is, until Rashid explained that Butt is a common Kashmiri name.

And that was pretty much the highlight of my day.

The end.

I'm In.

This morning at 3am, Dean, Brad and I arrived in Islamabad. Although it’s considerably warmer than Minnesota right now (about 50 degrees), it’s also damp, rainy and chilly. Glad I packed my long johns! Am looking forward to moving southward, to Lahore and Karachi later on next week.

Having slept until noon, I woke up to find Dean and our Pakistan Country Manager, Rashid, on their way out the door for a walk. We were scheduled to drive to Murree today, about 1 ½ hours away, to see the British hill stations. It was a chance to see some of Pakistan before starting work tomorrow. I got them to wait five minutes, and soon Brad and the other consultant, Greg, joined us as well. Unfortunately, the late start, pouring down rain/hail and general inclemency had us abandoning that trip before even the first stop.

Instead, Rashid and the drivers took us to two scenic overlooks of the city, which, by the time we got there, had cleared up enough for a nice view. We had chai at a beautiful restaurant set high in the hills above the city, along with the rest of Islamabad’s population. After that, we wound our way back down the slick and winding roads to a local market, where Dean bought a Kashmir coverlet for his bed and Brad bought a sweater.

At every stop, I am stared at. Not impolitely, but casually and with interest. I’ve been covering my head, more to keep my head dry and warm, than to keep the stares away. (They stare anyway). A little girl came up to me, not more than 12 at one of the overlooks and wanted a photo with me. We chatted for a little bit – she is studying in Islamabad, but from Lahore. She wanted to know my name, and its meaning. I wanted to ask her why me, but I didn’t.

Dean is conducting a project for one of his friends, who is an elementary school teacher. They have this cartoon character, Flat Stanley, which is basically a cardboard cutout of a little man about a foot high. We’re supposed to take photos of him in all these exciting places. Dean asked the girl to hold him and took one (of many) photos today.

Last stop was the National Monument of Pakistan, which looks like a big ½ of a lotus flower. Four enormous petals rise off a platform, with etchings of former leaders (Iqbal, Jinnah) and other famous Pakistani monuments (Faisal Mosque). Rashid’s driver, Nawaz, broke out some more chai for us from the boot of his car, which we drank in the rain. We also had some cold samosas and gulab jamun (my favorite!).

Currently, I am waiting for my internet to start working and the electricity to come back on in my hotel room (in that order). There have been intermittent power outages all day, I assume because of the weather and in part rolling blackouts that are hitting the country (although I hear this is mostly in Lahore).

One day down and nine more to go. So far, so good.

Now THAT's a cold shoulder...

I am not immune to the risks of traveling to Pakistan. I've been involved in no less than five security briefings this week. While I understand the risks, my commitment to living a life free of fear and embracing adventure far outweighs any trepidation I may have. I mean, what white-bred chick off the farm gets the opportunity to get to Pakistan in their lifetimes?

Also, I remembered my friend Jean-Marc was in Pakistan this September, when the government had pretty much shut down the entire country (it's true; even British Airways wouldn't fly there) I was in East Timor at the time, skyping him. He was very much ok; and enjoyed his time there.

So, while I don't mean to be harsh or flip about the very real security risks, I do really wish people would stop acting like I'm going to die.

No less than five people came into my cube this afternoon to wish me well, remind me to be safe and, the more morbid ones, to say a final goodbye. While this is nice, being reminded over and over again that I might die is not.

I was trying to finish a ton of things, so by the time G. came by, I was at my wit's end with this lunacy.

G, marches into my cube, into my personal space without a warning: "Ok, give me a hug."

Me, eyeball deep in year end performance review crap that needed to be done for me to get my raise: "Mmmmmmmmm, huh?"

G, "Give me a hug. You're leaving."

Me, thinking quickly about how to get out of this: "Yeeeeeeeeah, how about I give you a hi-five? I don't really hug co-workers."

G, seeming hurt, "But, what if you don't come back? This could be our last hug."

(PS. G likes to hug. I don't).

Me, turning back to my spreadsheet, mumbling: "Well then, you'll just have to hug my corpse."

///////Morbid, yes. But I am still kind of laughing about it.

What Do I WEAR?

This may sound trite, but I found myself honestly struggling with this question while preparing for my trip to Pakistan this week.

Not that I received mixed messages. Everyone I talked to cautioned me to dress modestly, and bring many scarves.

As my colleague Michael eloquently put it: "This is a good opportunity to use those silk scarves you have collected over your travels and/or off sales racks at Daytons."

Rashid, our Country Manager, requested that I bring no less than "Four formal dresses" (??? My only guess on this one was that he doesn't understand that "formal" translates into "prom" here in the US. Regardless of his suggestion, I am NOT bringing my green orgazana ballgown to Pakistan..)

Smartly, my friend Farida recommended the salwar kameez, a tunic and pants outfit worn commonly throughout southeast Asia. I agreed with her, but where to find any? This isn't something TJ Maxx normally carries...

Honestly, I've never been so frantic over wardrobe before. Usually, one gets the "western" card when traveling overseas (as in "Oh well, she's a westerner, she doesn't know better). But I already expect to stick out quite a bit, so if it's in my control to dress like the locals, why wouldn't I want to do that?

Hence, since Saturday, me running around the Twin Cities trying to find an India/subcontinent dress shop. I'd even stooped so low as to heading to Holy Land grocery in NE Mpls and accosting customers for ideas on where to shop. (Am not proud of this).

So, imagine my relief when last night when I was cruising down Central Ave in NE and I came across a small, but glittery, sari shop. I was so excited, I pulled over my car and RAN the three blocks in sub-zero temperatures, rather than turn around and find a closer spot. I was so afraid that it would close! The second I was in the door, I knew I was in the right place. Several kameez's (tunics) hung in the front entry way and, although too big, the shop keep was helpful in pointing out one's that would fit, and offering to tailor ones that didn't.

I spent the better part of an hour weeping with joy in the back room, finally picking out two outfits. One is a very somber, and warm, rough knit orange with a deep blue linen salwar (for lack of a better description - genie pants). It doesn't show too much cleave (I think!)

Secondly, I found a beautiful blue silk kameez with jewel embroidered flowers scattered across the front, paired with jewel toned purple pants/scarf. It was way too expensive (and I knew I'd be finding nice ones in Pakistan, too), but my vanity couldn't pass it up.

These, coupled with one my co-worked loaned to me, and the tunics I bought in Banda Aceh, I hope will bring me through.

I've packed Western clothes, too; a somber black suit and sweater set that never lets me down. My suitcase is bulging, but atleast I feel like I've got something for every occasion.

Goodness, I hope.

The First Trip 2009

I'll be going with a team for work for 10 days, starting this Friday. Our project is closing down there and I'll be giving some assistance to our team there. I'm 2% nervous and 98% excited!

Ruby Red

Last Saturday, with the help of my friend Kaydi, I went down to the Humane Society and adopted a cat. Ruby had been cooped up for two months, after being given up due to divorce, and was waiting for a good home. I took her to the vet on Tuesday, and besides needing to lose a little weight (you try living in a cage for two months), she is in perfect health.

I'm still not sure if I'm well suited to be a good "cat mother" but so far, so good. I haven't managed to poison, kill or maim her, and she seems to like me. She's terribly affectionate and loves to be petted. After an initial fight with my handbag, she's settled down to be quite a loveable companion.

I'm still getting used to being woken up at 5am with a cat in my face, but - love takes some adjusting. Gotta run. We've got our first case of cat puke!

It's Rough, But...

I won!

I've written a 50,800 word hastily hung-together no-plot travelogue/memoir!

Woot! Woot!

You Can't Win, Buddy

I went to the liquor store last night to pick up some wine for Thanksgiving. I was feeling punchy. I'd had a tough day.

Liquor store clerk: Can I see some ID?

Me: Don't worry, I'm old.

LSC: You look young enough to me.

Me: Was it the enormous pimple on my face that made you think that?! (It's true; I have an enormous pimple on my face).

LSC: (rightly so) ????WTF??


Poor little dude. He never knew I was just yanking his chain, but I had a good laugh.

Quick Trip or, Notes on Terrorism

With such a quick trip this week, I found it difficult to find time to do any research. As such, I kind of "showed up" in the Philippines without any context or understanding of the local culture. It wasn't really necessary, given that I spent my week sitting in a windowless conference room, but at times it would've been nice.

For example: After our meeting wrapped up Saturday morning, I took the afternoon and wandered around the many many shopping complexes interconnected via an open air skyway system through the Makati district. After a few margarita's and the world's best massage, I decided to try my chances at heading over to the Glorietta Mall.

I live in the land of the world's biggest shopping mall, so I thought I would be immune to the masses, but I was dead wrong. I have never seen crowds like that in my life, outside the Tokyo subway system at rush hour. I was crushed by tiny dark-haired Philippinos at every turn. Couple that with a very confusing skyway system and I was soon miserably lost.

On top of that, at every new shopping mall or department store, everyone had to queue through security. Sometimes there were several lines open and you walked through, opening your purse for a cursory glance by the sleepy security guard. Others were longer, like those you'd find at an airport (thankfully, I didn't have to take off my shoes) and twice as ugly.

I couldn't understand it. Shopping malls? You've got to be kidding me. Nothing I saw was worth protecting that much from theft.

When I finally joined my co-workers for supper that night, I mentioned the enormous crowds and the perplexing, ubiquitous security check points. Turns out, last year at this time, a bomb exploded, killing eleven and wounding 126. There's been no determination of whether or not it was Islamic militants, the government or just a freak accident, but it looks like no one is taking any chances.

Huh. That, along with the incident at the hotel, might have been nice to know before I arrived.

All of this got me thinking. I had a brief discussion with our VP the other day about the increased security around Manila (I've already blogged about what happend at our hotel last year). He had forwarded to me President-Elect Obama's recently issued brief regarding his administration's goals for the next four years. One of them included reducing the climate of fear in our country. Based on what we'd seen in the Philippines our question was this: does the increase in security guards, guns, night patrols, pat downs, liquid limitations and check points make you feel more, or less, safe? And secondly, how do you combat fear? Do you put more, or less, policeman on the street? Do you put more, or less, guns in private citizen's hands?

Isn't this just as difficult as waging war on "terrorism"? What do you do when the terror comes from within?

I realize that this very debate has been floating around in public discourse since 9/11, but it finally hit home for me. I was pulled over not once, but twice on my trip. The first time was random, but the second time was because I had house keys in my bag. Apparently, being able to get into your own home is ILLEGAL in some places. I mean, where is the line here? Does it make you feel more secure knowing I can't carry something as remotely pokey as my HOUSE KEYS on board? Might I be tempted to stab you in the eye and turn the knob?

More and more I feel I live in a world that Ray Bradbury would immediately recognize as twisted science fiction. As tripe as it sounds, I look with hope to the future that might return the innocence of the past. The kind of past where we looked at somone and thought, "Huh, they're different" instead of "I wonder what they're going to do with those keys..."

Do Your Research

This is what I get for not googling my hotel. I found out from our divisional VP today that exactly one year ago this month, our hotel was the set for a very real coup attempt. Yes, the photo above is a tank in the hotel lobby.

From our pals at Wiki:

The Manila Peninsula rebellion occurred on November 29, 2007 at The Peninsula Manila hotel in Makati City, Philippines. Senator Antonio Trillanes IV, Brigadier General Danilo Lim, and 25 other Magdalo officers walked out of their trial and marched through the streets of Makati City. The mutineers called for the ousting of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, and seized the second floor of the Manila Peninsula Hotel along Ayala Avenue. Former Vice-President Teofisto Guingona, Jr. joined the march to the hotel, as well as some of the soldiers from the Armed Forces of the Philippines.

After several hours, Trillanes and Lim surrendered to government forces once a military armored personnel carrier had barged into the lobby of the hotel. Trillanes and the mutineers were arrested while several journalists that covered the event were detained. The journalists were subsequently released.

Dude, what a weird world.

I'm an Aunt!

I'm an aunt! I'm an aunt! I'm an aunt.

I am also still in the Philippines.

Aunt!

You Should've Checked with the PR Department on That One

The Philippines are a predominantly Roman Catholic nation. In fact, I've managed to hit both of the only Roman Catholic countries in all of Asia this fall (the other being East Timor).

Unlike East Timor, there is also a sizeable Muslim population. Some of them are part of a successionist movement in the southern region of Mindenao. Not having read much about this conflict I can only comment on the poorly named Moro Islamic Liberation Front, or MILF.

Yeah, you read that right: MILF.

Against my better judgement, I find it terribly difficult to take this group seriously.

Because really, a bunch of MILF's running amok in southern Philippines would be kind of awesome.

Another Random Asian Country: Philippines

Quick trip, for a week. Spending most of it in Manila, in a conference center and a hotel.

God Bless Wiki. Without it, I wouldn't know anything about anything....

The Philippines (Filipino: Pilipinas, officially known as the Republic of the Philippines, Filipino: Republika ng Pilipinas), is an island country located in Southeast Asia with Manila as its capital city. The Philippines comprises 7,107 islands in the western Pacific Ocean, sharing maritime borders with Indonesia, Malaysia, Palau, the Republic of China (Taiwan), and Vietnam. The Philippines is the world's 12th most populous country with a population of 90 million people.[4][6] Its national economy is the 46th largest in the world with an estimated 2008 gross domestic product (GDP) of over US$154.073 billion.[6] There are more than 11 million overseas Filipinos worldwide, about 11% of the total population of the Philippines. It is a multi-ethnic country. Ecologically, The Philippines is considered to be among 17 of the most megadiverse countries in the world.[8]

Prior to the arrival of Europeans in 1521,[9] the Philippines was already settled by Austronesian (Malayo Polynesian) peoples. The Philippines became a Spanish colony in the 16th century, and a territory of the United States in the 20th century. In 1896, rebellion led the Philippine Revolution that won independence from Spain. American occupation of the Philippines during the Spanish-American War led to the outbreak of the Philippine-American War. A Commonwealth government was established in 1935, which allowed self-governance. The country gained its independence from the United States on July 4, 1946 after World War II. Martial law was declared in 1972 which led to the insurgencies of the New People's Army and the Moro National Liberation Front. Liberal parties then led People Power Revolution of 1986, which would bring the country back to democracy.[3]

The Philippines is one of only two predominantly Roman Catholic countries in Asia-Pacific, the other being East Timor. Pre-Hispanic indigenous rituals still exist; and there are also followers of Islam.[10] Spanish was an official language of the Philippines until 1973. Since then, the two official languages are Filipino, and English.[3]

The name Philippines was derived from King Philip II of Spain in the 16th century. The Spanish explorer Ruy López de Villalobos used the name Las Islas Filipinas (The Philippine Islands) in honor of the then Crown Prince during his expedition to the Philippines, originally referring to the islands of Leyte and Samar. Despite the presence of other names, the name Filipinas (Philippines) was eventually adopted as the name of the entire archipelago

28 Going on 80

My birthday is coming up next week and as such, I will no longer be able to use my current favorite phrase, "I'm 28 going on 80". This phrase is usually my prefix to some revealing some granny-eqsque habit/ideaology I've acquired that may be unusual for someone of my actual generation.

For example, I have an extreme affinity for my crock pot. I love to floss. I made curtains for my bedroom. I cook - alot, in large quantities - for my household of one. I make bars.

If I had a lawn, I'd probably tell people to get off it.

My friend Joyce and I were talking about this last night and decided that we are definitely going on 80. Our conversation topics centered around the following:

Work
Why Work is Stressful
Why Work is Necessary
The Economy
401(K)s
Taxes
Malpractice lawsuits, driving up insurance
Taxing junk food
Politics
Norm vs. Franken
Knitting
Yelling at people to shut the patio door, we were cold!
The Library
What a Membership at the Historical Society Gets You
Grandkids

And yes, I was home by 10:15, for the weather.

///No granny panties, yet though.

////Ok, maybe one pair.

The Post That Wasn't

Driving back from my parent's farm this weekend (which, to my astonishment, took only 4 hours and 20 minutes. Now THAT's a tailwind!) I mulled over deep thoughts fit for blog posting.

I'm mid-journal for the moment, having finished up my most recent during my trip to East Timor, and I've yet to find a new one. This means I'm dangerously close to posting items that the general public at large might find, at worst, embarassing, at a best, egotistical. Regardless, there are many many things I'm not prepared to share with the internets. (As my mom reminded me this weekend, my 82 year old uncle reads this...)

So, the best I can do is tell you what I'm NOT going to write about:

1) Fall. I'm of two minds about this slow slide into winter. On the one hand, the rise in baked goods is yummy and heartwarming - but on the other, it sucks that I have to bake just to keep my apt warm until they turn on the heat full time. I love my fall wardrobe and those fleeting crisp fall mornings, but I feel myself sliding into despair when I think about the bitter, long, upcoming winter months. Ugh.

2) The election. Me = patriotic. I emplore everyone to please, go vote. In fact, Vote Obama.
But dear Lord, can it stop now?

3) Turns out, I'm a "thinking" person. This has been used twice now in two weeks, from two seperate, completely unrelated people, to describe me. I'm not sure what this means. Mostly, I think it means I'm difficult. Hm. I think I'm going to stop thinking about being a thinker.

4) Hot dog, if people don't say the darndest things. My personal favorite from last weekend was being asked if I was pregnant.

I was going to write a whole post about the little indignities you have to put up with as you get older, especially in the form of unwanted questions that measure you against some strange standard (Why aren't you married/divorced/pregnant/pregnant again?) It's like older people have a sixth sense for finding your sorriest most bruised melty mess in your life, jabbing a sharp point stick into it, ripping it out of your gut, holding it up to the light and saying "Nope, she's lacking." And then they kick you in the groin.

But then I thought, you know what? I could care less what most people think. I don't have any control over the nasty rude things they say - they're going to say them whether I put up a stink and make myself miserably angry and irritated about it, or not.

So, I laughed with the little old lady when I told her it wasn't ME, but my sister who is indeed, 8 months pregnant. Turns out, she's a little nearsighted. :)

5) Sex
6) Drugs
7) Rock and/or Roll
8) Zombie Pub Crawl. Which was terrific, by the way. I finally got the bloody handprint off my car.
9) My awesome job. I'm going to the Philippines in a week!
10) Why I Haven't Blogged in Like, 8 Years.

That is all I'm not going to talk about.
Aaaaaaand, I'm spent.
M.

Are We In A Relationship or WHAT?

I have to laugh; awhile back I got talked into signing up for a Facebook page (although, I wasn't entirely convinced; I signed up with a 'nom de plume') and now it's become a source of discussion between myself and the same person who talked me into it.

When I first signed up, I joked "I'll do this because we need to take our relationship to the next level: the Virtual Level." 

(yes yes, it's a lame joke...)

So anyway, I gamely signed up and made up all sorts of crazy things about myself. However, much to my chagrin, there was no "HMF" status (listen UP Facebook!), so I had to list myself as "In a Relationship" and send him the link.

Can you believe it? He DENIED me!

Seeing as my photo used to contain a very sweet picture him kissing me on the steps of the capitol, I was concerned that the members of my burgeoning online followers might be a bit...confused. (Ok ok, I wanted the validation, too!)

Since we've been together almost five years, we both understand it will take more than his virtual rejection to keep me from hanging around. But still - denied over the internets? That's harsh.

And plus, I'm not the only one who's thinking about this. I've had several conversations with friends who were either in the same boat (or worse, my friend who's "boyfriend" overseas lists his relationship status as "single" !) 

Then, there's the awkwardness of being "friended" by people whom you ran away to the big city to forget in the first place. Do they actually get a notification that you've denied their friendship? Is Val Lindemoen going to pull my hair again in Sunday School if I don't? 

Several news (or news-esque) sites have started talking about this very phenom of the Virtual Rejection.

The Lede (A NY Times blog) writes:

And then, there are all the ways wearing your personal life on your digital sleeve can bedevil you. One of the Facebook members quoted on Canada.com described how the site's "in a relationship/not in a relationship" indication can do that:

"It's turned into this big thing, where if you just start dating someone you have to have this serious discussion: Should we change our Facebook status? Is it too soon? And then, if you break up, you have to change your status again and have that pathetic little broken heart next to your name on the (Facebook news) feed. No, thank you." 

So, I'm slowly coming around to my HMF's thinking. I used to think he was just ashamed to be with me (how's that for jumping to conclusions?) but now I think he's just got more common sense. I'm not worried anyway. Why would I want the virtual relationship, when I've got the real thing?