I joined Facebook over the winter, minutes after my husband did it. I had wanted to and was held back only by the fact that I was sure he’d mock me for it. So when he sat across the dining room table on his laptop and told me that he was joining, I jumped right in and opened an account with my opposing laptop. We used to call this “Laptop Battling” because we were stationed in a very Battleship game pose. A new apartment has us stationed far away from each other and computer time doesn’t count for couple time anymore.
At any rate, the Facebook thing began. I was really into it. I tried to think of anyone I might want to be my friend to make sure I had one more friend than my husband at all times. Neither of us is what you’d call social so we’re both hovering around 45 friends after six months.
It took an unpleasant turn for me after the initial reconnecting phase. I started seeing some stuff from old high school chums that was way too high school. It’s been eleven years since graduation, chocolate Easter bunnies in sexually explicit scenarios…. Really?
That guy got hidden from my new feeds. Then a guy who was playing way too much Mafia Wars had to go.
Each time I logged in to Facebook, I found myself with a growing annoyance at these friend people. They kept posting these conflicting political views and inane quiz results: “Which Golden Girl are you?” Jane Doe comments, “I can’t believe I was Dorothy! I thought for sure I would be Blanche.” Turns out, if you’re looking for a monkey sculpture in Mafia Wars, I just don’t care!
I hid more and more people just in an effort to still like them in the real world. Today, I’m making a big step to let it go. There is no point in it if you can’t stand to see what 90% of people are posting.
I’m much too anti-social for a social networking site anyway. The traditional dance of a face-to-face relationship suits me more. Always knowing that a person holds opposite views but never having it out in a conversation of substance has worked fine for all these years. I’ve never in my adult life talked to someone long enough for them to share their cyber space “mom style”, “stripper name”, or “Disney movie”.
When I worked, back in the day, your wanderings on the Internet were your own business. Stupid quizzes and high scores at time-wasting games were just personal accomplishments. Slacking didn’t have a news feed. Those were the days.