Stirring Memories Through Facebook, Part II

Dear Al,

All right, so I wrote a letter to your long-time friend Winkie, don't be jealous.  It's your turn to get a little attention.  And who better to get attention from than your long lost, the one who got away? 

I saw you on Facebook and I must admit I was pleased to see your avatar doesn't make you look like some old paunchy thing like your friend Winkie.  You still look active and virile.  That's considering the massive ski gear you had on.  Goggles and everything.  So I couldn't really see you.  I could tell it was you through your stance, though.  You've still got it, that stance.  Way to go.

Except then there was this little photo album you included on your page.  And there you were.  Oh Al, why'd ya do it?  Get old, I mean.  I still don't think you look as weird as Winkie, but well, yikes.  Put your dang shirt on. 

Penelope is getting her laughs.  I think she was secretly angry for me comparing her old friend to Louie Anderson, so she came back and told me who she thinks you look like.

That's right, Henry VIII.  Well I certainly don't think you're looking that doughy, but I have to say there is a resemblance. 

Seeing you and Winkie brought back lots of memories for Penelope and me.  Stonehenge, St. Cloud, chewing live goldfish, the patio at Sweeney's.  Those were fun times for sure.  But what happened since then?

You turned into sort of a stepchild.  Maybe it was the pot, maybe the older you got the less you could get away with.  You tried to crash one of your ex girlfriend's wedding "for the sake of [your] friendship."  You tried to seduce me while I was in a relationship.  It doesn't matter that my relationship was extremely toxic and dangerous and I was horribly unhappy in it.  It was mean of you to flaunt yourself and try to tempt me into your lair.  After all, you only had the best damn legs of anyone I ever dated.  But still, it was stepchildish of you to keep coming back.  Don't you think? 

So you got married somewhere along the line, and then divorced.  You've probably made a big pile of money and spent it all on toys and trips (read that any way you'd like.)  You got a little pudgy around the middle and you're probably kind of full of yourself as always. 

But I'll tell you this.  It doesn't really matter what you've become because I know I'll never get with you again.  Whew.  But I did have a taste in the past and baby I got you right in your prime.  And there's one moment of our fling I'll never forget.  We were riding your motorcycle in downtown Minneapolis on a dark summer night.  We were at a stoplight.  As we waited for the light to turn, you reached back and rested your hand on my leg, then gave it a little rub right before the green light led us onto Hennepin Avenue.  It wasn't about love or commitment or a lasting relationship.  It was about you making me feel like a hot little thing on the back of your motorcycle.  I thought I was in heaven.  And as we rode into the hot city night the speakers of the wind jammer sang to us:

That was thirty years ago.  Now go put your shirt on and act your age!