You deserve the truth, but I will never share that on my status updates, comments or on my wall. I’d rather be (INSERT) vague, coy, clever, superficial because you wouldn’t want to know the details of my real life because it’s too (INSERT) depressing, boring, weird, dysfunctional, kinky, spiritual, pathetic, illegal, perfect. Believe me, you wouldn’t be able to handle these details if I did share.
So, in celebration of our friendship and connection, I am now offering honesty for all of us, who dare not speak— eh, I mean, type. Up until now I have been silent for fear I will offend you, or will be deleted from your friend list, which really scares me because, frankly, I need all the “friends” I can get at this point in my life. You see, it’s about feeling a part of the crowd, because as a kid I was (INSERT) obnoxious, shy, neglected, despised, admired, mean, vivacious, in rehab, nerdy, constipated and finally (sigh), I belong. Also, it is soooooo nice to have the illusion that 150 people really care about my life and what I do or say or think on any given day.
But enough about me. This is about you, and our relationship.
I value your place in my life (a little). So it doesn’t matter if I know you from the greasy spoon job I had 30 years ago for six months in my freshman year of high school when I had acne, braces and all my hair. You are still my friend, and we are connected. So I owe you at least this much.
I value your place in my life (a little). So it doesn’t matter if I know you from the greasy spoon job I had 30 years ago for six months in my freshman year of high school when I had acne, braces and all my hair. You are still my friend, and we are connected. So I owe you at least this much.
Please forgive me.
Okay, this is brutal, but you really can stop sending me flowers, drinks, Farkle Chips, animals from Farmville and Mafia Wars requests. I don’t know how to play these games or return these gifts, and if I did, I would get sucked into the infinite internet vortex of wasted time and wouldn’t be able to feed and clothe my family. Ditto for prying notes and quizzes which border on the adolescent. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t care which Jonas Brother I will marry, because, you see, I have children that age.
Okay, this is brutal, but you really can stop sending me flowers, drinks, Farkle Chips, animals from Farmville and Mafia Wars requests. I don’t know how to play these games or return these gifts, and if I did, I would get sucked into the infinite internet vortex of wasted time and wouldn’t be able to feed and clothe my family. Ditto for prying notes and quizzes which border on the adolescent. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t care which Jonas Brother I will marry, because, you see, I have children that age.
I know you think it's harmless, but try to understand my embarrassment and annoyance over your probing of my relationship status. “It’s complicated” doesn’t mean you need to unravel the mysteries of my desperation on my Wall for all to see. I've been in therapy. Enough already.
Stop making me feel badly about myself. Do I really need to see your (INSERT) Jaguar, Mercedes, summer home in Venice, beautiful body, white teeth, sexy husband/wife, nuclear family, while I eat a hot dog alone in my cubicle? You have no idea the pain you cause me.
And your pictures. I must admit, I look at them. But keep the poses that are (INSERT) sexually suggestive, physically revolting (bikini wax, please!) or really really boring (the palm trees from your hotel room? the DisneyWorld sign? Really?) to yourself. Why waste precious bandwidth?
These are just a few things I’ve shared to make our friendship stronger. There’s much more I could tell you, but I’ll do that some other time. It’s getting late and my eyes are bleary from stalking, um, I mean viewing, your other friends’ unrestricted profiles and their comments and photos.
Always remember that I love you, Dear Facebook Friend, but not enough to give you my phone number. Hahahahaha. LOL. :)
