Dear FB,
Remember 2009? Me either, but that's when we met. Back then, you were still a big deal, but no one was comparing you to the population of whole countries yet. And me? Let's face it, I was just another notch in your belt, another image on the screen. You were ambitious. I was young and impressionable. I'm surprised we made it this far, but we had a good thing going.
Things were so confusing at first. For starters, there was the agony of friends. Who knew such a natural relationship could cause such anxiety. Questions popped into my head as quickly as the requests on screen: Are we friends? Who should I friend? Is it freaky to look for friends? Sure, I knew so-and-so in high school, but does that make us friends? What if I ignore her? What kind of person does that make me?
We persevered, however, and my friending policy emerged from the maelstrom: from this day forward I accept any and all friend requests. Except for loser ex-boyfriends. And self-important jerks. And high school students.
Quickly on the heels of the to friend or not to friend conundrum came the digital image dilemma. The fine line between I'm just casually tossing up these vacation pics to share with my friends and yes, I can still fit in my high school jeans never seemed more elusive. I debated internally for hours since everyone knows that poise and a graceful acceptance of oneself require a precise balance of self-adulation and self-immolation through online images. Duh. In the end, I resolved the conflict by posting pics of everyone but myself, with the occasional exception. After all, in a relationship a little mystery goes a long way.
Dating always involves rules: our relationship was no different. I like to think of all those little boxes I checked as our prenup. We'd always be faithful to one another and respect the boundaries of our relationship. But you were never one for the status quo. Like a die-hard devotee of the New York fashion scene, your look changed with season. And those little boxes I checked to make sure our relationship stayed exclusive? I couldn't even find them sometimes. I confess there were times I had to seek professional help to decipher what you were saying to me.
You never wavered, however. It was your way or the highway. The times they were a changing and if our relationship were to continue it meant compromise. My compromise. So I embraced change. Read technical articles, consulted gurus, kept security tight, posted more vacation pics, grew a little lax when it came to celebrating birthdays. You didn't seem to notice.
It was damn near impossible to miss that giant insurance ad on our front porch though. Whatever happened to the suggestions tastefully located on the edges of our property? Weren't they sufficient? I notice that you made the most of the side entrance too: the shopping links populating my feed on my phone app will come in handy when I'm trying to coordinate plans for the weekend with my friends since that's always the best time to check out the sales at Kohl's.
But no matter, ours has always been a one-sided conversation. I get it. It's how you are. Should you change your ways, you can find me by answering this one little question:
Compose Tweet?
