If I really wanted to poke my ex-boyfriend from high school, I probably wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place. But thanks for the suggestion. Also, if he needs more friends, is it really my place to suggest them? I imagine that when we were going out I had lots of helpful suggestions for him. Clearly, he didn’t take them or we’d probably be married and possibly divorced by now. I don’t know. And the thing is, facebook, neither do you. So get off it, would ya?
Now that I think about it, you really have a lot of nerve suggesting how I should conduct my friendships. Especially with exes. You do realize that I’m 37 years old? A 37-year old woman should not have to look at a picture of her ex-boyfriend from high school every single day of her life. (Although I will say for the record, just in case ex-boyfriend-from-high-school ever reads this — which he probably won’t because he’s clearly never online — that I think he has aged very well and that he is actually better looking now than he was in high school.) (Let me also just state for the record that even though I said that I do not have any designs on ex-boyfriend-from-high-school as I am a happily married woman.) (Let me also just state that I think my husband has also aged very well and that he is also better-looking than he was in high school. I didn’t know him when he was in high school but judging by the yearbook photo, I’d say his hair has come a long way.)
SEE? See that, facebook? See the trouble you’re getting me into with your constant meddling? Look, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just looked up an ex-boyfriend or two or twelve or WHATEVER on facebook. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone does it. I shouldn’t have to go feeling all guilty about it. But I feel very, very weird and wrong when I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop open and hubby walks in the room and there, on my screen, is ex-boyfriend-from-high-school with the suggestion, “Make Facebook better for him!” Not that husband has any inkling that the person he’s looking at is the same person who… well… that’s a story for another time, dears. Let’s not smutty up the blog in the first week. There’s time for all of that nasty bidness later.
My point is this: Yes, I cracked open the ex-boyfriend door. I took a peek inside. I said hello. Got a little hello in return. It was pleasant to catch up. Then I was perfectly content to back out of the door and close it softly behind me. But I didn’t know that you, dear, sweet, stupid facebook would forever be pointing at the door and going, “HEY! ISN’T SO-AND-SO IN THERE? DON’T YOU WANT TO TALK TO HIM? WHY DON’T YOU SHOW HIS PICTURE TO YOUR KIDS?”
To be honest, facebook, I don’t know if I can really trust you. You act like we’re great friends and all that, but you seem far too willing to make me feel uncomfortable. Take your “Friend Suggestion” tool, for example. I have long contended that that should be renamed to “Remember this Jackass?” And if you want to help me out with my friendships so badly, why not provide a little more info about these people that I’m supposed to know? For example, you could include helpful sub-categories such as, “People you may have slept with,” or “People who made you cry yourself to sleep,” or “People you were only pretending to like.” Honestly, I don’t even know half of the people you want me to associate with. What’s the deal with that, anyway? Then you go and suggest some mercy friend like the Philly Phanatic. (No, he’s not in the “People you may have slept with” category. Yet.) Are you trying to make me feel bad and unpopular? If so, high school beat you to the punch.
Facebook, you are a blessing and a curse to me. I have good time with you. You make me laugh. You get me to put my guard down and tell you things that I wouldn’t necessarily let fly with just anyone. But then I wonder how pure your intentions are. You’re like that coworker who pals around with someone until they’re up against you for a promotion. Then you go tell the boss that your supposed friend has been doinking the mailroom guy behind the dumpster during lunch. Since you’re facebook, you will have photos of these dalliances, complete with snarky captions. Then later you’ll try to get your sadsack coworker to laugh it off. You’ll say she’s too sensitive and that it was all in fun.
And with that I shall sign off for the evening, having “poked” no one. I look forward to tomorrow’s suggestions, facebook. Until the day you totally screw me over, I guess we’re still friends. Call me.
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