Anyone who has been to Valhalla knows you can’t have just one drink. I’ve tried. Many times. It’s not possible.
But I got home eventually. I reached into the fridge for a last beer while my laptop warmed up. Might as well check on Louise, see if she was alright.
My thoughts turned to the young man at the bar, and how some people had nothing better to do than stalk strangers on Facebook. Unbelievable.
I logged in, then typed her name at the top of the screen. Nothing came up. OK. He probably told her to block me after I gave him a piece of my mind earlier. Not the first time it had happened.
Simple enough to fix. I logged out, then back in again under a different profile. Ah, there she was. But what was this? A new post, within the last few minutes. Garth had been at her door, kicking and shouting and promising unholy retribution if she didn’t let him in. Louise was asking if anyone had a place for her to stay for a couple of days, until he calmed down and she could let him in again.
That wasn’t right. She shouldn’t have to leave her own home. Not on his account.
I poised my index fingers ready to say so, to tell her exactly what she should do. Then I caught a glimpse of my profile pic at the top of the screen. Well, not “my” profile pic, obviously. The one I used for this particular Facebook profile.
She wouldn’t know it was me. She wouldn’t take advice from a complete stranger. She wasn’t that naïve.
It took me a few seconds to log out and back in again as myself, before I realized I couldn’t message her because she’d blocked me.
Damn.
Now what?
Then it came to me. I had to drain the last of my beer before that happened, but when the tiny lightbulb went off at the back of my head, I knew what I had to do.
Checking I was on the right profile, I typed “I’ve had a rough day.”
Latest in a series of emails sent to me by an old Valhalla drinking buddy. He couldn’t post them himself, for reasons that will become obvious over time. I’m publishing them here at his request, as I received them.
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