Post by Dean Wolf on Sept 22, 2019 21:58:55 GMT -5
OOC: For some background information on the relationship between Dean Wolf and Katie, read this RP from 2015:
wcfwrestling.proboards.com/thread/26417/stopped
The whole “looking at things more positively” attitude that Wolf resolved to adopt the week before? Well, it’s not holding up today. He’s human. He’s not perfect. He knows it’s a process. He knows it takes a lot of work.
Why bring this up? Well, Dean Wolf is very tired. For the second week in a row, he’s been summoned to San Diego for an in-studio interview with Troy Butler. The pain that he’s been in since Ascension and the press conference is still lingering, which is probably why Irina made him get on a plane for a six-hour trip to do one interview. This is the last place he wants to be.
Waiting around, he’s sunk in his chair while all sorts of PAs and producers walk around trying to get everything set for this one web-exclusive interview. Someone tries to apply make-up to Wolf. He swats them away.
Dean Wolf: Fuck off, will you?
He’s cranky as fuck. Butler arrives at his seat.
Troy Butler: Hey, Wolf, how you doing? Good to see you again.
Butler extends his hand but Wolf just stares at it and then up at Butler.
Dean Wolf: Let’s just get this over with, okay?
Troy Butler: Um, sure, yeah. I’m sure you have other things to do but I appreciate you making the time to be here.
Dean Wolf: [sarcastically] You know me, Troy. I love flying across the country just to talk to you.
Butler doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
Troy Butler: Oh, hey man, thanks. That means a lot.
Wolf sighs.
Dean Wolf: [under his breath] Dumbass.
Producer: Alright, everybody. Places. In 5, 4, 3…
He holds up two fingers, then one, and points at Butler.
Troy Butler: Welcome to another web-exclusive interview. My guest, for the second week in a row, is the APW Hardcore Champion, Dean Wolf. Wolf...
Dean Wolf: You’re welcome, Troy. It’s great to be here as always. Now ask your first question.
Wolf is still sunk in his seat despite now being on camera.
Troy Butler: Sure. You and your opponent this week, Alex Scott are very similar. Both of you are loners who seem…
Wolf immediately shoots a look at Troy at the mention of the word “loners.”
Dean Wolf: What was that?
Troy Butler: Um, you and Alex Scott are both loners and…
Dean Wolf: Really? That’s the first thing you thought of when you sat down to write your questions? That me and Alex Scott are loners?
Troy Butler: Um, it just seemed like a natural place to start.
Dean Wolf: Oh, really? Is that what I’m known for? Is that the first thing you think of when you think of me? That I’m a loner? Why is that even important?
Troy Butler: I’m just trying to apply some context for this match.
Dean Wolf: How about thinking of me for what I am, which is the APW Hardcore Champion? Why not think of me as one of the top guys in APW? Why not think of me as the guy that goes out to the ring and kicks people’s asses?
Troy Butler: Look, Wolf, I didn’t mean to offend you.
Dean Wolf: Fuck what you intended. Look- Wolf, camera, mic. That’s all you need. Why don’t you go take a fucking walk. I hear it’s a nice day outside.
Butler sits in his chair stunned. Wolf stands up.
Dean Wolf: What the fuck did I just say?
Butler scurries out of his seat and runs off. Wolf looks at the camera.
Dean Wolf: Alright, get a tight shot of me.
The camera zooms in on Wolf’s face.
Dean Wolf: Now, let’s talk about how Alex Scott and I are different. I don’t whine and bitch and complain when I lose a match like he did after Ascension. Scott, maybe you didn’t want to tag up with Lilianna Rose, but she ain’t the only reason why you lost that Tag Title Match. She was only half the reason. She didn’t drag you down. You and her dragged each other down.
I’ve been put in makeshift tag teams a lot over the last two months, and while I don’t want to be hooked up with every single person I’ve been made to tag with, I make the best of each situation, and so far, that’s done me well. I make sure I do my job and I do what I need to do in that ring. I make sure that I support my partner no matter who it is. They’re my key to more victories, more opportunities, and more money.
Alex Scott, I hear you saying you want to move on now, and win the Junior Heavyweight Title, and the North American Title, and the World Title, but how you gonna win those titles when you don’t hold yourself accountable for your shortcomings? If you’re gonna be like that, why don’t you just do what Fuckin’ A did and walk out of APW and into the arms of some other company that will tolerate your whining bullshit. This is a sport for grown adults. If you’re gonna act like a kid and blame somebody else for your loss, then maybe we shouldn’t share a ring with each other.
When I lost at Alpha Showdown, did I blame part of it on ZMAC getting in my head and fucking with me? Yeah, but whose fault was it for letting ZMAC do that? Me. I let ZMAC get in my head. I’m the one that lost focus. Me and no one else. I own up to that. I don’t blame anybody else for that failure but me.
You need to start learning that you’re the one that controls your fate. You are the reason why you lose, whether it’s a tag team match or singles competition. Be accountable. Be responsible. That’s how a professional in this sport acts.
I noticed that when you were listing all those titles you wanted to win, you failed to mention the Hardcore Title. Son, this is your chance. Maybe you don’t think the Hardcore Title is worth fighting for, but the way I see it, the Hardcore Title is a top title in APW. Ever since it was introduced in Atlantic City, guys like me, Spartan, and yeah, even fuckbag ZMAC, have made this title the most coveted title in APW except for the World Title. We’ve made this a big match title. When this title pops up on screen, the fans know they’re going to see a fight unlike any other in APW.
Maybe you made an honest mistake and you just forgot to mention the sweet piece of gold that I possess. Maybe you realize that as long as I hold the Hardcore Title, you don’t want to fight for it because you’re afraid of what might happen to you if you do. Maybe the Hardcore Title is too much for you. Maybe you’re not confident enough in yourself to be able to take the punishment that I went through to win it and get it back.
Here’s your chance. Bodacious has got the first shot and I’m going to beat him at Supremacy. Johnny Blaze has got it next and while he’s big and impressive, I’m going to beat him, too. Maybe you could be the third man up for the title if you beat me this week and show me that you can be a man. If you can earn a shot at my title, I’d be glad to step into the ring with you again.
But until then, I’m not impressed by you. Until then, I don’t see you as me equal. Until then, you are not "The Answer", "The Gift", "The Future", "The All-Day Superstar,” or any other stupid nickname that you give yourself. You want to be a champion? You want to be at that level? Then this week, on Metal, when the bell rings and I come at you with everything I have, you better nut up, shut the fuck up, and try to seek the wolf in thyself.
He storms towards the camera while ripping his mic off.
Dean Wolf: Get the fuck out of my way.
He pushes the cameraman out of the way and storms out of the studio.
The next morning, back in his apartment on Long Island, he’s deep in thought in his desk chair, thinking about the bad attitude he exhibited the day before in the studio.
Why the hell did I lose it on Troy Butler when he said that I was a loner? It wasn’t because it was the wrong thing to focus on when talking about my match against Alex Scott. I mean, it was, but that wasn’t the reason I got so fucking angry. I mean, yeah, I was already in a bad mood. I didn’t want to be in San Diego. I wanted to be in the gym. I wanted to be rehabbing my injuries. I wanted to be resting. But not even that was the reason why I lost it on Butler after he called me a loner.
He sighs heavily.
It’s because what he said was true and it bothers the fuck out of me to no end that it’s true. I’ve been on my own for most of the last fourteen years. There were those three years where I was tied to Bernard Core, when I devoted my existence to advancing his principles, but he didn’t give a shit about me, even if he did get me off pills and alcohol. He played on my emotions. He was using me. He only needed me as long as I was able to help him take over the sport of wrestling and the American education system. I became such a head case that I let him treat me like shit. He wasn’t my friend. He wasn’t my mentor. I was the puppet and he was the puppetmaster. I was alone, even then. I just didn’t know it.
What I do know is that when I finally rid myself of Bernard Core, it just reinforced my belief that I didn’t need anybody. I didn’t need friends, lovers, families, nobody. I just needed to get by on my own. In the sport of wrestling, where everyone is a snake looking to stab you in the back, that kind of mentality is helpful, but away from wrestling, it doesn’t hold up as well. You need someone at home, when you get away from this god-forsaken wrestling business, to vent to, to tell them your troubles, to voice your frustrations to. I don’t have that. When I get off the road, I just come back to this fucking apartment and stew and think about everybody that I hate like Bodacious, Irina, and ZMAC, all these people that want to fuck with me. I’ve got nobody to talk to you about that shit. I’ve alienated my Dad. He doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. I don’t have any friends.
And the one person that I wish was here with me as I try to make my way through this ruthless business- I caused her to fall out of love with me fourteen years ago.
He has a flashback to October 30, 2005. He’s in Katie’s apartment in Cortland, NY, where they both attended college. He’s sitting in a chair across from Katie, who’s sitting on her couch, tears welling up in her eyes, biting her lip as she tries to stop herself from crying. She’s fiddling her thumbs, outwardly nervous to be in the same room as her boyfriend. Wolf is wearing a leather jacket, looking as nonchalant as he would fourteen years later in an interview with some guy named Troy Butler.
Dean Wolf: What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so nervous?
She’s trembling, really trying to hold in her emotion. Wolf gets impatient.
Dean Wolf: Why did you call me over here?
She breathes heavily, getting ready for delivering some bad news.
Katie: Dan, I can’t do this anymore.
He lowers his brow suspiciously.
Dean Wolf: What are you talking about?
Katie: I can’t be with you anymore, Dan.
Now he sits up.
Dean Wolf: Wait. Are you breaking up with me?
She begins to break.
Katie: I’m sorry.
Dean Wolf: W---
He’s so perplexed he can’t even get the word out.
Dean Wolf: Why?
Katie: You know why, Daniel.
Now he grows angrier.
Dean Wolf: No, I don’t! Why don’t you enlighten me?
Katie: For this! Listen to you! Listen to the way you’re talking to me! Look how quickly you’ve lost your temper!
He knows she’s right and stops himself from reacting just to try and prove that she’s wrong.
Katie: I told you after you got arrested for that fight that I couldn’t be with you if you were going to fly off the handle. You scare me when you’re like that. Sometimes I think you’re going to hit me.
Dean Wolf: Oh, come on, Katie! I would never do that and you know it!
Katie: I don’t. You put your own friend in the hospital after you knocked him out with a wrestling move you saw on TV, and that was just because he was interrupting a phone call you were having with me. I think it’s only a matter of time when I annoy you just a little bit and you knock me out, too!
He gets up and starts pacing around the room.
Dean Wolf: I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t FUCKING believe this is happening!
He kneels down beside her.
Dean Wolf: Katie, listen. You know I’ve got a bad temper, but I’ve fixed it before and I can fix it again. Please, just give me another chance.
He holds his hands together pleadingly.
Dean Wolf: Please.
The tears start flowing down on her face.
Dean Wolf: Katie, please. PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! Please! I need you. I need you…
She looks at him pityingly through the waterfall coming out of her eyes.
Katie: Oh, Daniel.
He looks in her eyes.
And knows it’s over.
Katie: I’m sorry. I just can’t deal with it anymore.
She puts her hands to her face and starts bawling. Defeated, Wolf stands up. He looks down on her, wanting to comfort her and knowing he can’t. He quietly walks out of the apartment. He stops as the door closes behind him, trying to wrap his brain around what just happened. The sound of Katie crying snaps him out of it and he realizes he has to get as far away from that sound as possible.
And he did. Now, fourteen years later, in a tiny apartment, he can’t hear anything. All he can hear are the thoughts inside his own messed up head.
He decided after Katie broke up with him that if he couldn’t succeed in ridding himself of anger, then he would just embrace it and use it to his advantage, which is why he became a wrestler. And since he needed his anger for his livelihood, he was angry all the time. And since he was angry all the time, more people started to distance themselves from him. And since people started to distance themselves from him, he decided that he didn’t need them anyway and that he wouldn’t need anybody that he would ever encounter in the future. That’s what led him to addiction, which led him to Bernard Core, which led him to three years of subjugation while he cut off any contact with his mother, who was dying of can---
He pounds his desk.
ENOUGH!
He sits back in his chair.
Enough of this. I can’t keep getting wrapped up in my own head like this.
I can’t change the past.
All I can do...is apologize.
And then move on.
He opens up his laptop and goes to the one website he thought he would never visit again.
Facebook
![]()
He created a profile when it was still called THE Facebook in 2004. It was cool at the time, but it eventually became one of the many things about life that he hated.
Now, he needs it to find the next person on the Apology Tour. He feels a little bit like a stalker, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
He still remembers the username and password that he created all those years ago (his memory isn’t just reserved for remembering why he hates people so much).
He reactivates his account and immediately sees his profile picture, the one he uploaded when he was just a young college junior.
wcfwrestling.proboards.com/thread/26417/stopped
The whole “looking at things more positively” attitude that Wolf resolved to adopt the week before? Well, it’s not holding up today. He’s human. He’s not perfect. He knows it’s a process. He knows it takes a lot of work.
Why bring this up? Well, Dean Wolf is very tired. For the second week in a row, he’s been summoned to San Diego for an in-studio interview with Troy Butler. The pain that he’s been in since Ascension and the press conference is still lingering, which is probably why Irina made him get on a plane for a six-hour trip to do one interview. This is the last place he wants to be.
Waiting around, he’s sunk in his chair while all sorts of PAs and producers walk around trying to get everything set for this one web-exclusive interview. Someone tries to apply make-up to Wolf. He swats them away.
Dean Wolf: Fuck off, will you?
He’s cranky as fuck. Butler arrives at his seat.
Troy Butler: Hey, Wolf, how you doing? Good to see you again.
Butler extends his hand but Wolf just stares at it and then up at Butler.
Dean Wolf: Let’s just get this over with, okay?
Troy Butler: Um, sure, yeah. I’m sure you have other things to do but I appreciate you making the time to be here.
Dean Wolf: [sarcastically] You know me, Troy. I love flying across the country just to talk to you.
Butler doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
Troy Butler: Oh, hey man, thanks. That means a lot.
Wolf sighs.
Dean Wolf: [under his breath] Dumbass.
Producer: Alright, everybody. Places. In 5, 4, 3…
He holds up two fingers, then one, and points at Butler.
Troy Butler: Welcome to another web-exclusive interview. My guest, for the second week in a row, is the APW Hardcore Champion, Dean Wolf. Wolf...
Dean Wolf: You’re welcome, Troy. It’s great to be here as always. Now ask your first question.
Wolf is still sunk in his seat despite now being on camera.
Troy Butler: Sure. You and your opponent this week, Alex Scott are very similar. Both of you are loners who seem…
Wolf immediately shoots a look at Troy at the mention of the word “loners.”
Dean Wolf: What was that?
Troy Butler: Um, you and Alex Scott are both loners and…
Dean Wolf: Really? That’s the first thing you thought of when you sat down to write your questions? That me and Alex Scott are loners?
Troy Butler: Um, it just seemed like a natural place to start.
Dean Wolf: Oh, really? Is that what I’m known for? Is that the first thing you think of when you think of me? That I’m a loner? Why is that even important?
Troy Butler: I’m just trying to apply some context for this match.
Dean Wolf: How about thinking of me for what I am, which is the APW Hardcore Champion? Why not think of me as one of the top guys in APW? Why not think of me as the guy that goes out to the ring and kicks people’s asses?
Troy Butler: Look, Wolf, I didn’t mean to offend you.
Dean Wolf: Fuck what you intended. Look- Wolf, camera, mic. That’s all you need. Why don’t you go take a fucking walk. I hear it’s a nice day outside.
Butler sits in his chair stunned. Wolf stands up.
Dean Wolf: What the fuck did I just say?
Butler scurries out of his seat and runs off. Wolf looks at the camera.
Dean Wolf: Alright, get a tight shot of me.
The camera zooms in on Wolf’s face.
Dean Wolf: Now, let’s talk about how Alex Scott and I are different. I don’t whine and bitch and complain when I lose a match like he did after Ascension. Scott, maybe you didn’t want to tag up with Lilianna Rose, but she ain’t the only reason why you lost that Tag Title Match. She was only half the reason. She didn’t drag you down. You and her dragged each other down.
I’ve been put in makeshift tag teams a lot over the last two months, and while I don’t want to be hooked up with every single person I’ve been made to tag with, I make the best of each situation, and so far, that’s done me well. I make sure I do my job and I do what I need to do in that ring. I make sure that I support my partner no matter who it is. They’re my key to more victories, more opportunities, and more money.
Alex Scott, I hear you saying you want to move on now, and win the Junior Heavyweight Title, and the North American Title, and the World Title, but how you gonna win those titles when you don’t hold yourself accountable for your shortcomings? If you’re gonna be like that, why don’t you just do what Fuckin’ A did and walk out of APW and into the arms of some other company that will tolerate your whining bullshit. This is a sport for grown adults. If you’re gonna act like a kid and blame somebody else for your loss, then maybe we shouldn’t share a ring with each other.
When I lost at Alpha Showdown, did I blame part of it on ZMAC getting in my head and fucking with me? Yeah, but whose fault was it for letting ZMAC do that? Me. I let ZMAC get in my head. I’m the one that lost focus. Me and no one else. I own up to that. I don’t blame anybody else for that failure but me.
You need to start learning that you’re the one that controls your fate. You are the reason why you lose, whether it’s a tag team match or singles competition. Be accountable. Be responsible. That’s how a professional in this sport acts.
I noticed that when you were listing all those titles you wanted to win, you failed to mention the Hardcore Title. Son, this is your chance. Maybe you don’t think the Hardcore Title is worth fighting for, but the way I see it, the Hardcore Title is a top title in APW. Ever since it was introduced in Atlantic City, guys like me, Spartan, and yeah, even fuckbag ZMAC, have made this title the most coveted title in APW except for the World Title. We’ve made this a big match title. When this title pops up on screen, the fans know they’re going to see a fight unlike any other in APW.
Maybe you made an honest mistake and you just forgot to mention the sweet piece of gold that I possess. Maybe you realize that as long as I hold the Hardcore Title, you don’t want to fight for it because you’re afraid of what might happen to you if you do. Maybe the Hardcore Title is too much for you. Maybe you’re not confident enough in yourself to be able to take the punishment that I went through to win it and get it back.
Here’s your chance. Bodacious has got the first shot and I’m going to beat him at Supremacy. Johnny Blaze has got it next and while he’s big and impressive, I’m going to beat him, too. Maybe you could be the third man up for the title if you beat me this week and show me that you can be a man. If you can earn a shot at my title, I’d be glad to step into the ring with you again.
But until then, I’m not impressed by you. Until then, I don’t see you as me equal. Until then, you are not "The Answer", "The Gift", "The Future", "The All-Day Superstar,” or any other stupid nickname that you give yourself. You want to be a champion? You want to be at that level? Then this week, on Metal, when the bell rings and I come at you with everything I have, you better nut up, shut the fuck up, and try to seek the wolf in thyself.
He storms towards the camera while ripping his mic off.
Dean Wolf: Get the fuck out of my way.
He pushes the cameraman out of the way and storms out of the studio.
The next morning, back in his apartment on Long Island, he’s deep in thought in his desk chair, thinking about the bad attitude he exhibited the day before in the studio.
Why the hell did I lose it on Troy Butler when he said that I was a loner? It wasn’t because it was the wrong thing to focus on when talking about my match against Alex Scott. I mean, it was, but that wasn’t the reason I got so fucking angry. I mean, yeah, I was already in a bad mood. I didn’t want to be in San Diego. I wanted to be in the gym. I wanted to be rehabbing my injuries. I wanted to be resting. But not even that was the reason why I lost it on Butler after he called me a loner.
He sighs heavily.
It’s because what he said was true and it bothers the fuck out of me to no end that it’s true. I’ve been on my own for most of the last fourteen years. There were those three years where I was tied to Bernard Core, when I devoted my existence to advancing his principles, but he didn’t give a shit about me, even if he did get me off pills and alcohol. He played on my emotions. He was using me. He only needed me as long as I was able to help him take over the sport of wrestling and the American education system. I became such a head case that I let him treat me like shit. He wasn’t my friend. He wasn’t my mentor. I was the puppet and he was the puppetmaster. I was alone, even then. I just didn’t know it.
What I do know is that when I finally rid myself of Bernard Core, it just reinforced my belief that I didn’t need anybody. I didn’t need friends, lovers, families, nobody. I just needed to get by on my own. In the sport of wrestling, where everyone is a snake looking to stab you in the back, that kind of mentality is helpful, but away from wrestling, it doesn’t hold up as well. You need someone at home, when you get away from this god-forsaken wrestling business, to vent to, to tell them your troubles, to voice your frustrations to. I don’t have that. When I get off the road, I just come back to this fucking apartment and stew and think about everybody that I hate like Bodacious, Irina, and ZMAC, all these people that want to fuck with me. I’ve got nobody to talk to you about that shit. I’ve alienated my Dad. He doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. I don’t have any friends.
And the one person that I wish was here with me as I try to make my way through this ruthless business- I caused her to fall out of love with me fourteen years ago.
He has a flashback to October 30, 2005. He’s in Katie’s apartment in Cortland, NY, where they both attended college. He’s sitting in a chair across from Katie, who’s sitting on her couch, tears welling up in her eyes, biting her lip as she tries to stop herself from crying. She’s fiddling her thumbs, outwardly nervous to be in the same room as her boyfriend. Wolf is wearing a leather jacket, looking as nonchalant as he would fourteen years later in an interview with some guy named Troy Butler.
Dean Wolf: What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so nervous?
She’s trembling, really trying to hold in her emotion. Wolf gets impatient.
Dean Wolf: Why did you call me over here?
She breathes heavily, getting ready for delivering some bad news.
Katie: Dan, I can’t do this anymore.
He lowers his brow suspiciously.
Dean Wolf: What are you talking about?
Katie: I can’t be with you anymore, Dan.
Now he sits up.
Dean Wolf: Wait. Are you breaking up with me?
She begins to break.
Katie: I’m sorry.
Dean Wolf: W---
He’s so perplexed he can’t even get the word out.
Dean Wolf: Why?
Katie: You know why, Daniel.
Now he grows angrier.
Dean Wolf: No, I don’t! Why don’t you enlighten me?
Katie: For this! Listen to you! Listen to the way you’re talking to me! Look how quickly you’ve lost your temper!
He knows she’s right and stops himself from reacting just to try and prove that she’s wrong.
Katie: I told you after you got arrested for that fight that I couldn’t be with you if you were going to fly off the handle. You scare me when you’re like that. Sometimes I think you’re going to hit me.
Dean Wolf: Oh, come on, Katie! I would never do that and you know it!
Katie: I don’t. You put your own friend in the hospital after you knocked him out with a wrestling move you saw on TV, and that was just because he was interrupting a phone call you were having with me. I think it’s only a matter of time when I annoy you just a little bit and you knock me out, too!
He gets up and starts pacing around the room.
Dean Wolf: I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t FUCKING believe this is happening!
He kneels down beside her.
Dean Wolf: Katie, listen. You know I’ve got a bad temper, but I’ve fixed it before and I can fix it again. Please, just give me another chance.
He holds his hands together pleadingly.
Dean Wolf: Please.
The tears start flowing down on her face.
Dean Wolf: Katie, please. PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! Please! I need you. I need you…
She looks at him pityingly through the waterfall coming out of her eyes.
Katie: Oh, Daniel.
He looks in her eyes.
And knows it’s over.
Katie: I’m sorry. I just can’t deal with it anymore.
She puts her hands to her face and starts bawling. Defeated, Wolf stands up. He looks down on her, wanting to comfort her and knowing he can’t. He quietly walks out of the apartment. He stops as the door closes behind him, trying to wrap his brain around what just happened. The sound of Katie crying snaps him out of it and he realizes he has to get as far away from that sound as possible.
And he did. Now, fourteen years later, in a tiny apartment, he can’t hear anything. All he can hear are the thoughts inside his own messed up head.
He decided after Katie broke up with him that if he couldn’t succeed in ridding himself of anger, then he would just embrace it and use it to his advantage, which is why he became a wrestler. And since he needed his anger for his livelihood, he was angry all the time. And since he was angry all the time, more people started to distance themselves from him. And since people started to distance themselves from him, he decided that he didn’t need them anyway and that he wouldn’t need anybody that he would ever encounter in the future. That’s what led him to addiction, which led him to Bernard Core, which led him to three years of subjugation while he cut off any contact with his mother, who was dying of can---
He pounds his desk.
ENOUGH!
He sits back in his chair.
Enough of this. I can’t keep getting wrapped up in my own head like this.
I can’t change the past.
All I can do...is apologize.
And then move on.
He opens up his laptop and goes to the one website he thought he would never visit again.
He created a profile when it was still called THE Facebook in 2004. It was cool at the time, but it eventually became one of the many things about life that he hated.
Now, he needs it to find the next person on the Apology Tour. He feels a little bit like a stalker, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
He still remembers the username and password that he created all those years ago (his memory isn’t just reserved for remembering why he hates people so much).
He reactivates his account and immediately sees his profile picture, the one he uploaded when he was just a young college junior.
God, I looked like an asshole.
He types in a name in the search field.
Katie Ward
He quickly scans all the profiles with that name, but none of them are her.
Fuck.
He tries her first and middle names.
Katie Meghan
Still no luck.
He ponders for a second what to do next and then types:
Katherine Meghan
Bingo. Third time’s a charm.
There she was, looking just as beautiful as she did when he last saw her all those years ago. He moves the cursor over to the “Add Friend” button.
Do I do this?
He backs his finger off the mouse.
Unless I want to go to her parents’ house in Mt. Sinai and ask for her whereabouts, which is a BAD idea, then this is the quickest way to get in contact with her.
He puts his finger back on the mouse. He closes his eyes and makes a face like he’s touching a dead rat.
And presses down.
Well, that’s that. Whatever happens happens.
The positive feeling from last week returns. Not all of it, but a little bit of it. He’s hopeful that she’ll accept his friend request. He’s hopeful that she’ll want to talk to him. He’s hopeful that she’ll accept his apology. He’s hopeful that she’ll take him b---
Alright. Let’s not get too far.
