The Mystery of the Basic Flake
When I ran into “Vanessa” - a name designation made only for the alliteration of “Vanessa the Vixen” - a few weeks ago, I hadn’t seen her in years. The last time I thought of her was probably two years before and only because her younger sister posted something on Facebook tagging her.
Growing up, Vanessa always existed in the periphery of my universe. She was the older, popular, valley girl-esque blonde who lived in my neighborhood and always seemed to be attached to some faceless jock. We went to the same elementary, middle, and high school and then even college, but I don’t think we ever ran into each other there. We may have 160 mutual friends on social media, but that hardly denotes being part of the same friendship circle.
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