Facebook

Something like one out of five of my Facebook friends are people I don’t know. I don’t know them, I don’t know how they found their way onto my friends list. I suppose I must have accepted their invitation and in a burst of e-licentiousness I friended them back. I don’t care what they’re doing and I don’t read their posts. They’re like background noise at a party.

Then there are my “friends” from my old high school, the one I attended in ninth grade. Some of these folks I really do care about. Some I frankly dislike. Some I like, but I hate their politics, and I have to restrain myself from picking fights with them or with their commenters. Sometimes I don’t restrain myself.

They’re teabaggers, some of them. On one level I feel squicked out, knowing I palled with people who would later become wingnuts. And on another level, I feel like I failed them. On the other hand, one of my best friends from junior high — a guy with whom I had frequent political arguments — is a self-described conservative. And if I couldn’t convince him of my politics, I guess I’m just not that good at convincing.

It’s not like anyone listens to me. I’ll update my status and one or two people will “like” and one or two, if I’m lucky, will comment. Admittedly, I don’t update that often, but it’s a vicious circle. One of my wingnuttier acquaintances from 9th grade makes some comment about the morons at the DMV, or fixing up a room of his house, and ten, twenty people comment. Mostly women. Is it because he is recently divorced and they are too? I would think the soul patch on his profile photo would put them off, but apparently some women are into soul patches.

Once, in med school, people listened to me. It was uncanny. We were gathering outside a lecture hall maybe ten minutes before class would start, and I was exclaiming about some damn bit of politics or another, and before I knew what was happening I had a knot of about ten people around me. Listening to me. I realized that I had no idea what I had just said, never mind any understanding of why it should attract so much attention, and in the shock of the moment I lost my train of thought. I shut the hell up and they dispersed and I was relieved. And it never happened again.

But back to Facebook. I admit that I friended some people just to look at their pix and see what they look like nowadays. Mind you, I haven’t aged all that well, since I’m short and tubby (no matter how many hours I log in the gym) and balding and short and going gray and still short. But some of these people — wow. What happened to you. While others are still every bit as cute as they were thirty-five years ago. Life’s unfair that way.

The best moment of my Facebook experience is when I figured out how to block game requests. I have one game on Facebook, Word Twist, and I don’t care about the other games. I don’t give a damn if Sue needs leaf mulch for her beets, or if Mike wants to give me two dozen rounds of ammo for my Glock, free of charge. This is just so much spam to me, only even less useful, since I’m told that some people actually eat spam. Once I figured out how to block that crap, my Facebook page became much prettier.

The most striking thing about Facebook is that no one ever wants to talk to me. Right this instant, seven of my friends are on Facebook. Yes, I realize most simply have their computer on, and they’re busy feeding their chickens or boffing their spouses or doing the laundry, and their computer is sitting forlorn and forgotten, but some of them are people who like me, or at least I believe they do, and they’re not saying hi. Which is only one small step away from the annoying observation: Neither am I. Which makes me wonder: can I block that function, too?

Oh, hey, one of my new friends is online right now! I’m outa here.

D.

Walnut, November 9, 2010. Category: asides.

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