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He doesn’t enjoy getting poked.

November 3, 2009
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At some point a few months ago, I received a Facebook “poke” from LO.

I thought he was being playful, so I poked him back, and we’ve been playing this game back and forth since. I don’t usually poke people while I engage in social networking (I mostly blog and update my status about how much I want to punch Lady Gaga in the face!), but I kind of thought this little interaction was cute. It showed that we are thinking of each other. That, even between snooping on other people’s photos, we were eye-to-eye {insert that little action where you point your two fingers square at your eyes, then at someone elses}. I thought it was fun.

Then, this past weekend, while I’m kicking around in bed and LO is checking his Facebook, he makes a loud sigh as his home page opens.

“Why do you keep poking me on Facebook?” he asks.

This kind of throws me off. Especially because he has his “serious face” on.

“Ummmm, because YOU poked ME first,” I reply.

At this moment, LO’s face becomes whiney. Like a little kid who’s trying to get his younger brother to stop hanging out with his friends. Or like when I gave him a gag gift for his birthday, which was a banana, wrapped distinctly in a banana shape with a bow on top, and he kept squishing it through the paper and asking, “Is this a banana?” and then, finally, defeated and with a little pout when he saw the yellow skin poking through, “It’s a banana…” (fyi: I got him a blender).

The conversation continues on for a few minutes like this:

LO: “NO. You poked ME. I was just poking you back.”
Me: “NO. I was just poking YOU back. Because you poked me first.”
LO: “NO. NO. I remember, you started it.”
Me: “NO. YOU started it.”
LO: “You and {insert name of another friend}. You guys both just keep poking and poking me. Don’t poke me anymore.”
Me: “What’s the big deal with poking you, anyway?”
LO: {starting off into empty space, but speaking with real emotion to signify that he is about to say something profound} “I’m not much of a poker.”

Just like that. With no further explanations. He just isn’t much of one.

Well, then.

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