We met on Facebook (you were connected with an old work friend), found common musical/spiritual/creative interests, swapped music we'd created back and forth. When you moved to town, I was stoked to finally meet a Facebook friend in person. My partner and I traveled way across town to visit and really liked you, your home, your family. We offered support during your transition and talked with you about fun stuff to do together, friends we could introduce you to. I spent a few evenings (remotely) trying to help you get your gear set up. Got all fired up to start creating more music to share, planned with you for future visits. Then your friend arrived in town to work on your project and... [crickets]. Well, except for the multiple daily Facebook posts with coy little messages about all the great sex, mash notes between you and new bf, pictures of you two in lovey-dovey (thankfully, clothed) poses. I'm glad you're happy, but WTF are you, in high school? (That might also explain the wigga poses—if you weren't twice the high-school age already.) Are you even conscious of what a cliché it is to retreat into a closed bliss bubble the second you start getting laid again? Like Stew said, I've seen this flick before, and it gets boring. Call when you start thinking with your big head again. And for the sake of your Facebook friends who haven't yet pulled the plug on you, please get a fucking room.