Tucker #9: Georgia On My Mind.

My stomach catapulted into my throat when William told me he'd found a match for our elusive Lothario. The tone in his voice when he assured me I would not believe what he was about to tell me, indicated a shock value of proportions I could not even begin to gauge. In the half second between hearing his words and replying with my own, I seemed to concoct a thousand theories of my secret suitor's identity.

Was it someone in William's family - thus explaining the extensive use of their names? His brother, a cousin, his father?

Was it a friend of William's - trying to play a twisted joke on his buddy, not realizing the expense at which it came?

Did William and I somehow have a connection with a mutual friend we didn't catch on to? Was someone playing the both of us?

(Aside: how fucking awesome is Michael Bolton? I can't even think to write while I'm listening to this man. Also, mental note to watch Office Space ASAFP*)

Was it someone with some level of social or political stature, hiding his identity to woo me with his personality and charm, instead of his bank account?

My mind even drifted to the impossible - was this someone who had died, and a friend hacked his Facebook account, picking up where he left off? Morbid? Yeah. But really, at this point, I would have believed nearly anything.



I snapped back to reality and waited for William to reveal what he'd found. I don't know why I didn't think to reverse-search Tucker's phone number. Actually, I had done that via Google, quite some time ago. The only thing that turned up was an area code verification that the number originated in Rome, Georgia - something I already knew. What I didn't think to do, was download a creepy iPhone app that, for 99 cents, searches beyond basic telephone directories and pulls up any location your number is stored online. Facebook? Nabbed it. FourSquare? Caught ya! Twitter? You can't hide from the iPhone you sonofabitch. Thankfully, William is far smarter than I am, and thought to put his phone to work searching for our perpetrator. Sure enough, within moments, a Facebook page appeared on his screen.

When Tucker told me the name at the top of the Facebook profile, I was speechless. For, quite possibly, the first time ever in my life (act surprised, assholes) I was completely and utterly unable to speak. This could not be possible. I must have muttered "Are you sure?" a dozen times, each time William patiently responding with some variation of "Yes, I'm absolutely sure."

I clicked the profile, hoping to find more information about my cybersuitor. Instead of venturing into his online wonderland, I was roadblocked by a mostly private profile. There was a vague profile picture - the kind where you can't even make out a face, and you're not entirely sure if you're looking at a person or a circus animal. I could see the Rome, Georgia location, a friends list, and a listing of new friends and event RSVP's on the devastatingly bare wall. I couldn't look at any more profile pictures, but suddenly my eyes were drawn to the top right corner of the page - "Mutual Friends: Tucker Evans."

"William...you're our mutual friend...do you know this person?"

He insisted he didn't, at least not that he could recall. The only explanation he could come up with was that they attended the same high school, though he was a few years older. Perhaps his younger brother was a connection? It was a small town, and not entirely impossible that it was simple "I know who you are because we're 2 of 2000 people who live in this town" sort of friend request - my Fremont crowd can totally relate to this. We all have at least 100 friends that live in our town, we have 200 mutual friends with, but aside from the errant "like" and awkward birthday wish, have never spoken a single word to in our lives.

William ventured further into profile exploration, as I wait anxiously on the other end of the phone for him to give me some sort of clue as to how - and why - this was even possible. I'm still not convinced it's correct - could there have been an error? Did iphone genie lie to us? As William browsed the profile, he quickly confirmed the number app was correct - the phone number I'd been texting - Tucker's number, was right there, in black and white (actually I think it's blue...or maybe that's just on my phone. Either way...), listed as the contact number. I hung up the phone as I tried to process what I had just been told. I was stunned. Confused. Outraged. Confused. Scared. Disgusted. Confused. Pissed out of my mind. Dumbfuckfounded. HOW? How is this even possible? How could I not have made the connection before? How did I not pick up on this - I should have known.

My emotions are in a battle royale as I stare blankly at the screen in front of me. I should have known all along...but how could I have? I fight the truth, still clinging to some shred of belief that a mistake has been made. Despite the smorgasbord of facts, spread out in a tell tale buffet in front of me, I struggle to rearrange the pieces to create an alternate ending for this tale. My perfect, perfect man has to exist. He has to be real. This is all a huge mistake, and at any moment, Tucker is going to text me that he's home from Georgia, and waiting on his couch with a bottle of wine and a stack of Will Ferrell movies. There's a perfectly logical explanation for all of this, and my fairytale ending that I don't even believe in will finally unfold. Whatever this is, is a cruel joke - come on Ashton Kutcher, you can come out now!


For a blissful moment, the anger entirely subsides. I no longer feel betrayed, lied to, deceived to most unbeliavable extreme. I feel nothing. I look at the face peeking out at me from beneath the ballcap in the profile photo, and I stop feeling anything. Then, as soon as the anger had evaporated, the wave of the next emotion crashed down on me. I felt broken. My heart physically hurt - I had really fallen for this incredible man - a man who loved the Lord and his mama and was charming and adorable to boot. Our conversations of building our dream house and spending weekends fishing came pouring back into my mind as the floodgates of memories reopened. I was caught in a torrential downpour of reminders of why I was still so emotionally entangled in this mess. I left the anger and pursuit of justice to stand in the rain of that perfect love I almost had. This was the end. The proof was right in front of me. Tucker was over - there was no explanation, no justification, no redemption. He was gone, I'd been had. I. Was. Devastated.





I called William back, after regaining enough composure to try and determine the appropriate next move. By the time he answered the phone, he'd already done some poking around. His voice was uneven - almost shaky - as he told me what he'd just come across.




"I looked through the profile pictures - there were only three."




"That's weird...but what did you find?"




"Well, the first one is the one you can see - with the baseball hat on..."




"Right - where you can hardly even make out a face."










"Yeah. Well, the second two...are of me."