To friend or not to friend?

So I found this guy I had/have a major crush on on Facebook. Yeah, I searched for him. I'm an internet stalker. Last I knew he was all anti, but I knew it was only a matter of time before Facebook drew him in because, after all, it's taking over the world. The question is: do I friend him or not?

Friending someone seems innocuous enough. I mean some people have like 5,000 friends. Some people have "friends" they have never even met in real life. But I'm getting conflicting advice on this one. I mostly want to friend him because I want to scour his pictures and try and figure out if he's dating anyone. And also because I'm hoping reminding him of my existence will remind him of how cool I am and that he's madly in love with me. And then we will live happily ever after. Or I will just reveal that I'm a creepy internet stalker. Not that I'm above that. I don't mind being labeled.

So... here's the deal with this guy: I went to the bar with my two married friends (a couple, hetero) and there was this guy in a yellow shirt who was hot like whoa sitting behind me. You should talk to him, my friend says. And I was all, no, he's sitting alone at a two-top, clearly waiting for his date, I'm not talking to him. And then the weirdest thing happened: HE started talking to US. Turns out he vaguely knew my friends through other mutual friends and he recognized them. That was my in.

Just after I had downed the last of my second beer and was feeling way too confident and ready to get my flirt on, his friends arrived and he moved to a bigger table. So, buoyed by three I.P.A.s, I pulled about the ballsiest move I've ever tried. As we were leaving, I walked over to his table where he was sitting with about six of his friends, said something to the effect of I had enjoyed meeting him and wished we could have had the opportunity to talk more and slipped him my number.

And then I reverted to a giddy 13-year-old as I fought the urge to look over my shoulder as I ran away. We actually had to drive right by him sitting outside and we got stopped at a light right next to his table. I ducked down in the back seat and said to my friends, "Ishelooking?Ishelooking?Ishelooking?Ishelooking? And then I tried to will the light to turn green. Didn't work.

The whole fun of that stunt was pulling it off and feeling like a rock star. I never expected him to actually call me. But he did. We hung out four times. We mostly rode our bikes around the city and got drunk. He thought I was really funny and told me so. See, drunk me is a real interesting gal. Sober me, it's hit or miss. So I had to make sure alcohol was involved every time we hung out so I could keep playing comedian. This was a lot of pressure that lead to hungover days at work, mystery bruises and broken bike parts.

But we got along really well and he kept asking me to hang out/and/or returning my phone calls and agreeing to hang out with me again. We had great conversations. (At least I think we did, the parts that aren't hazy.) I was basically in lurve.

On the last "date" he left his bike in my apartment and we walked to the bar. You can see where this is going. Or at least I did. Or thought I did. He would have to come inside to retrieve his bike and I would convince him to just ride it home in the morning. We were totally going to make out. At least.

Except that when we got back to my place he grabbed his bike, hoisted it over his shoulder and fled my apartment like the building was on fire. He didn't even take the time to buckle his helmet. He gave me the cursory, one-armed, obligatory hug, with his bike BETWEEN us, (yes, he actually placed a physical barrier between us so he wouldn't have to touch me too much) as he mumbled something vague about hanging out again. He then jumped down six stairs and knocked over plants and lamps in his haste to get away from me. He made a him-shaped hole in the wall as he ran through it, you know, like on cartoons. He did NOT want to make out.

I discussed this scenario with my friends and we all came up with the same obvious, undeniable conclusion: he had explosive diarrhea and had to get home quick. It's called the Theory of Occam's Razor: the simplest explanation is usually the right one.

After that I didn't hear from him for a few days, and not known for my patience, I decided to force the issue. I texted and asked if he had a good time the other night because he left in kind of a hurry (understatement of the year). He replied something totally cryptic and said he was in a weird place right now and asked if I wanted to get together so he could explain it all. (Translation: (ex)girlfriend's got me by the balls.) Since I saw no reason to meet up so he could reject me in person (over text message will do just fine, thank you) and tell me whatever head-casey sob story (because he was a faux-sensitive, hipster guy) about why he couldn't date me, and since I do not play armchair psychologist to that bullshit (I have enough neuroses of my own to keep myself occupied, thanks) I politely declined, said I had had a lot of fun with him and if he ever wanted to hang out again, he had my number. Clearly, he must have fallen off the face of the earth because I never heard from him ever again.

Until nine months later when I Facebook stalked him. So the question remains: Do I friend him or not?