When a Blast From the Past Shows Up (And Immediately Makes It Weird)

 Every now and then, life hands you a moment that makes you stop, blink twice, and ask yourself,

“Is this really happening, or did I accidentally wander into a sitcom?”

This week, that moment arrived in the form of a Facebook friend request.

From: John (names changed I don’t really want to be on Judge Judy, she’s vicious.)

Yes — that John.

John, who I haven’t spoken to in… well, let’s just say “decades” and leave it at that.

I accepted the request because I’m polite and occasionally curious.

Within seconds — not minutes, not hours — seconds, I got:

“Hey how are you doing today.”

Which is exactly the tone scammers use when they’re pretending to be a Nigerian prince or your long lost cousin who suddenly needs Apple gift cards.

I ignored it.

Then came:

“I am doing good and you.”

At this point, I was 90% sure this was not a real human man but a bot wearing John’s face like a Halloween mask.

But no — it was him.

And that’s when the conversation took a turn into…

Let’s call it “unexpected emotional enthusiasm.”

Within minutes he was asking if I was married, telling me he was “ready to move on,” and requesting a photo like we were on a dating app I did not sign up for.

I sent a harmless picture.

He told me I “still look good.”

I reminded him I’m nearly 70.

He claimed he didn’t know how to send a picture back.

Sure, John. Sure.

I told him I was with my grandkids and would talk later.

He thanked me like I’d just saved his life.

Then came:

9:30 pm Good night sweet dreams pretty lady  

7 am Good morning  

9:23 am Are you not going to talk to me  

Mon 7 am How are you doing today

Sir…I answered you once. Calm down.

I started wondering if I had somehow given the impression that I was interested.

Spoiler: I had not.

My friend Aunt Bea summed it up perfectly: “That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t respectful. That was love bombing mixed with desperation mixed with ‘I don’t know how to send a picture’ nonsense. That’s not getting reacquainted. That’s emotional cannonballing into the shallow end.”

And honestly? That’s exactly what it felt like.

On the drive home, I had four hours to think — which is dangerous because that’s when my brain gets creative.

I started imagining sending him a list of requirements for any man who wants to talk to me.

A list so specific, so unapologetically me, that it would send any unprepared man running for the hills.

It went something like this:

What is your BTS bias? You must have one.

What is your favorite K Drama? An Answer is required. 

Do you have a passport? I’m going to South Korea. Possibly more than once.

How much Korean can you understand? Speaking earns bonus points.

Are you willing to do 12 step skincare twice a day? (That’s a trick question.)

Minimum makeup required. Guyliner is non negotiable.

I don’t do country music.

JoDee cooks and cleans for me. You will be taking over her job.

I will visit my kids whenever I want. Alone.

My money stays mine. I will vacation with my kids. You pay your own way.

If you get sick, I’ll bring you a phone. I might call 911. That’s the full extent of my caregiving package.

When I read this list to Aunt Bea she had to fan herself like a Southern auntie at a revival.

   The Real Lesson

Sometimes people from your past show up and immediately try to sprint into your present.

But you get to decide who gets access to your peace.

And if someone comes in hot with “sweet dreams pretty lady” after twenty years of silence?

You are allowed — encouraged, even — to say:

“I wish you well, but I’m not interested in continuing this chat.”

And if all else fails, send them the BTS/K Drama/guyliner requirements list.

That’ll sort the brave from the foolish.