Where do you draw the line?
I’m talking about Facebook. I’m talking about what most of us probably spend more time than we care to admit looking for pictures of our classmates to confirm who got fat. Or throwing things like Justin Timberlake at our friends when really we should be doing something more constructive around our home. Or joining groups like My Chihuahua Can Kick Your Ass.
Well, he can.
And don’t act like you don’t do this stuff too. I can see when you’re online. I know you’re out there.
But where do you draw the line?
Example: in the past week I have gotten two friend requests from old boyfriends. First of all, I forgot they were at one point a boyfriend. Gee thanks for the reminder. Second of all, it was like in junior high – days we shall call “those which I would really like to forget.” Why? Have you not been to junior high? I would like to burn all photos and memories of those years. Downright embarrassing. Third, chances are my personality/maturity at that age was….all right maybe much hasn’t changed but do I need someone from age 13 reminding me of that?
NO WAY!
So I have selectively chosen to ignore their requests. For now. Because I cannot bear the embarrassment of knowing that someone out there remembers me at that age and serves as proof that I was alive and didn’t just skip ahead to age 26 when finally you seem to have a handle on yourself.
I think.
But it is fun, isn’t it? If you haven’t been bit by the Facebook bug just wait. You will. You can find anyone on it. I found several of my classmates from good old P.S. 203 in Brooklyn. That was over 25 years ago! They still look the same. And I remember them all by name! I can’t remember anyone from college. High school – seriously I don’t care to look. Again years I would like to erase. I’ve always been leary of people who “loved” high school. Where did you go, Sweet Valley High? Yeah? Well while you were dressed like a Barbie doll I looked like something straight out of Square Pegs.
Talk about four years lived as awkwardly as possible. And no that is not me. Those two are the Square Pegs. Somehow looking like that they got their own show on t.v. Me – I just had to actually live real life with the braces and fluffy bangs.
I introduced my mom to Facebook the other day. I showed her all of the relatives and all of my old Brooklyn friends. Seems like all of my Brooklyn Italian friends have only gotten more Italian by marrying an Italian and giving their kids Italian names.
Long live the Italians.
Anyways, at first mom wanted a Facebook account. But then as she started realizing it’s a tool for people to find you she was like – no, I don’t need that. I don’t need people finding me. This is my mom. She is the most covert operation you will ever meet. I swear she had an alternate life in the 60’s that none of us are aware of.
And for the record, mom – I’m with dad on this one: we know you had a leather fringe jacket.
(I don’t have a picture of this but I just know)
Sometimes I like to patrol other people’s friend lists to see if I know anyone or can invite anyone else to be my friend. Sometimes I’ll see someone like The Bachelor and think he would make a really cool friend but then again is he really going to be my friend or just another number on my friend list. So is it worth it for me to sit there, biting nails wondering if The Bachelor will accept my request to be his friend?
(oh pipe down, if you had abs like that I’d put you on my blog too)
Probably not. But I did notice that Mira was friends with him anyways. I’m jealous, girl.
A few months ago, I was cruising Rob’s friend list and noticed he had become friends with a certain 70.3 world champion.
No.
No?
Yes.
I called him out on this. How did he get her to be his friend? He gave me some story about it which I can’t remember right now but I do remember that he dared me to ask her to be friends. Well, I can’t. I mean, she’ll see right through me. She’ll know that even though she is a pro and I am a pro that she is in a completely different pro league. Like PGA tour while I’m stuck playing putt-putt. But…do you think….that she would really be my friend? Rob said I should try. I sat with fingers on keys waiting to press send and then…I did it. Got bold and requested to be her friend.
Waiting.
Waiting.
And then a short while later…confirmed.
She’s my new best friend.
That’s totally a lie. She has no clue who I am and I’m ok with that because she would probably realize I was the one sitting at the dinner table with her in St. Croix watching her eat.
*nothing says psychostalker like watching someone eat*
Right now I have 111 friends. I find that funny because in real life I have about 2. Including my dog. And my husband. You got me. I have no friends. But on Facebook I am so popular. Do you remember the popular kids? I wasn’t one of them but I remember them like I was. In fact, wait a minute, let me look one of them up on Facebook……yup….
Confirmed. They are now really, really ugly. And they only have 110 friends.
I win.
Finally.
So if you are on Facebook, look me up. As long as we didn’t date in junior high I will be your friend.
Unless you throw Justin Timberlake at me.
At that point I draw the line. And say we can no longer be friends. Unless you have really good aim and he ends up right in my lap. In that case, you’ve just become my 112th friend.
