For all the modern convenience Facebook provides, it is also capable of blindsiding you when you least expect it.

I recently logged into the addictive site, same as I always do. E-check in with close friends, then acquaintances, then “long losts” when a new status appeared and punched me in the gut.

Engaged. Engaged?!

It is amazing news, something that couldn’t have happened to a kinder, more delightful man. And I’m thrilled to hear it.

But he was that person from my childhood – the first crush, the first person I imagined marrying one day. The one with whom a sixth-grade teacher, who had spent most of the academic year rolling her eyes at the manner in which he and I bickered, dryly predicted that I’d settle down.

And he’s the person who, during the rare times in which our paths cross, makes me smile inwardly because it proved that at some point back in the day, I clearly had impeccable taste.

We’re not the people that we were back in our school days. I don’t fall down stairs…often. He doesn’t write songs about me falling down stairs. I don’t pretend to hate those songs but secretly love them.

But I was that girl, and a little bit of her was tucked away inside me. And while the idea of preparing to marry makes this twentysomething woman’s chest tighten with anxiety (I’ll stick with my current dating track, thank you very much), and while he’s long since been taken off that initial pedestal, I can’t deny that I felt that little bit of my heart break.

At the same time that I began to smile.