Chapter Eighty Nine; Facebooking

Do you have Facebook?

Is blonde my natural hair color? (Okay, don’t answer that . . .)

Of course I have Facebook. Who doesn't have Facebook?

About a year ago, my then boyfriend determined someone as social as me should be a part of this virtual land of friends and poking, groups and games, wall writing and picture tagging. He explained how some kids from Harvard had started this very intriguing social networking site only three years before and that I really should have a page too.

Hmmm. I’d heard of Facebook before. But it seemed really juvenile and slightly lame. But whatever. I am into juvenille and lame so I said sign me up.

So I put a flattering profile picture of myself on this deal (one that looked nothing like me, of course.) And when I read the status line, which asks me, “What are you doing right now?” I just thought, “What am I doing now? I am setting up a Facebook page, what does it look like I am doing right now?”

What the hell.

This is weird.

My BF walked me through adding a few “friends, people I happen to know in real life immature enough to already be on Facebook. And then, I just sat back over the next few days and marveled at things like, did I really need to know that a former co-worker of mine just got his money stuck in the candy vending machine two minutes ago?

Really? Is my life better now with this knowledge?

As far as I was concerned Facebook seemed like one thing and one thing only:

A giant waste of time.

In other words I just didn't get it.

At all.

My boyfriend didn't really use Facebook much either so other than the setup he was a rather worthless mentor.

Ironically, he ended up playing a pivotal role in my first Facebook creeping experience. Because it was on him. (Note: Creeping. The Facebook cultural term for looking at other people’s profiles and information that they put out there for one purpose only: for other people to see. Even though this is the whole point of Facebook in the first place (sharing information) apparently if you actually do that you are a “Creeper.”) It was around the time our relationship was unraveling and stuck somewhere in ambiguity land. I looked at his Facebook page (which I had hardly ever looked at before because why? I saw him all the time.) and noted an old girlfriend of his had written on his wall.

All the sudden Facebook seemed like an emotional torture device.

What was the lure of this again? I was so not sold at this point.

When we finally broke up I hit the delete key on his digital friendship. And it wasn't because I didn't want to be his friend anymore (It has such a kindergarten ring to it, doesn’t it?) I deleted him because if he was going to move on I would rather live sans botox and buy Lee jeans than have a front row seat to his life post-Audra.

You see, back in the good old days (like 10 years ago or something) when you had to actually be home to take a phone call as opposed to the grocery store or a public restroom (okay, I don’t do that but I’ve heard many a voice in the stall next to me say, “Hello? Jean! How ya doing?” and then . . . Flush . . . yeah, nasty.) and the only kind of mail you got arrived on a piece of paper not a screen, break ups were out of site out of mind.

You just went to your bedroom and cranked up some Def Leopard until you were over it. You didn't sit your pining ass down at a computer and subject yourself to creeper confirmations that yes, look at that, the ex is now groping some brunette on a dance floor downtown and here is the pictorial evidence to seal your insanity.

So Mr. X BF. I no longer own a Def Leopard cd but I do have a delete key.

Ah.

Maybe I could get used to this Facebook thing.

(So empowering.)

Oh, wait one second, I was just tagged in my friend’s album. And hot damn, I look good in that picture!

(So ego-feeding).

Oh, now look at this little nugget a friend just posted. Now, did I really need to know that about my neighbor’s husband?

(So T.M.I. But strangely intriguing . . . )

In other words.

I was soon hooked like a crack whore.

Before I knew it I’d arrived at a reality where my day just couldn’t begin until I knew what my cousin in New Jersey had had for breakfast. Or until I had checked my old college roommate’s status to see if she had survived her recent bout of malaria (drama queen, she has a cold). Or, of course, to see if anyone had sent me a Facebook email. (Forget my hotmail account. That inbox had nothing but crickets chirping in it. Facebook was my new communication command station.)

And guess what was worse?

I could get Facebook on my . . . are you sitting?

CELL PHONE!

I was in social connection heaven.

In the car, at the mall, at the gym. Facebook went everywhere I did. I could literally update my status AND check on the status of all my “friends” any time, anywhere.

Ah, Facebook, my new love. My relationship with the universe.

Thankfully, as with any new situation, the infatuation soon wore off. Now, Facebook and I have settled into a comfortable routine. Our relationship has stabilized and matured. (I only check it in the mornings and evenings. I break the "not during work rule" only if I am tagged in a picture because that is an emergency situation. Because what if it isn't a flattering shot? I am single. That is defcon 5 in my world.)

The fact is I don’t really care what people are eating for breakfast anymore. And I really only update my status at a ridiculous rate when I am, say, snowed in during one mother of a blizzard. (Audra is baking bread pudding. Audra is playing Wii with her kids. Audra is making gingerbread cookies. Audra is cleaning her house (a little). Audra just consumed a huge pan of bread pudding. Followed by gingerbread cookies. Audra is on the couch by the fire moaning in agony. Audra now has a clean house but a very fat ass, the Wii was not enough to burn off 10 gingerbread cookies . . .and an entire pan of bread pudding . . . and so on, and so on. )

Now days, Facebook is the central location for me to post pictures and videos to share with friends and family. And yes, it does function as my main resource for learning what is going on in the larger world of those people I care most about.

I know some people use it as a dating service but I already tried Match.com and I am not going there. If I have actually met someone in the flesh, I will accept their friend request. But I ignore these perfect strangers who found me in someone else’s friend list and obviously thought, “ooh, long blonde hair…”.

Gross.

And so, yes. Yes. I do have a Facebook page.

Because you know what?

Who doesn’t?

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Today, December 14th, is the one year anniversary of the judge's signature on my divorce petition. Therefore, my next post, this Thursday, will be my last.

Divorce Land has come its natural end.

I started this blog because I am a writer. And writers, if we do one thing at all, we write. And at this emotionally paralyzing time in my life last year, I could think of nothing else to write about. My freelancing came to a grinding halt. The novel I was working on sat untouched.

Yet I probably had more to say than every before. And this blog allowed me the channel to say it.

I will publish my final post on Thursday. Thank you to everyone who came along for the ride.

This writer isn't done writing. So keep in touch . . . God bless, and yes, the book version of Divorce Land will be my next endeavor.

~Audra