Thoughts

Love & Dysfunction in Facebookland

I will be the first to admit I spend more time on Facebook than I should.  I’m not completely addicted or have 1 million apps like some people I know, but I do check it no less than 5 times a day.  One of my employees isn’t signed up on Facebook & I constantly warn her away with a straight face.

Part of the reason is because, yes, I’m obsessed with my Facebook but also because simply, Facebook makes life weird.  That’s the long & the short of it.  Facebook, & I’m sure other social media, basically reduces you down to numbers, options & a virtual trail of clicks & Wall stories.

I mean, some things on Facebook are capable of it’s own limited poetry, like a coy status update or what someone might write in their info section.  For instance, when my friend Courtney’s mother passed away, she wrote in her “About Me” section one sentence: I’ll never stop missing my mom.

But, what I’ve noticed is that virtual acts in Facebook often have strange repercussions in the real world.  The term “friend” has become this loaded word, a phrase that includes indifference, a desire to be recognized, exclusivity.

I’m “friends” with people I hardly talk to, simply because we knew each other at some point in time.  I’m “friends” with a few of my former professors, which automatically makes me re-think anything I post so I don’t embarrass myself.  I’m “friends” with my mother, who would consider it the epitome of rejection if she wasn’t included.  Which I can understand; I’ve been “unfriended” by people I never talked to & still thought “Why did they do that?  What happened?”

Or maybe this story would better illustrate my point:  My husband Kurt originally got a Facebook account awhile back & didn’t tell me.  He wasn’t being deceptive or sneaky; he wanted to see what was taking up so much of my time.  He wasn’t impressed & intended to get rid of the account when a couple of our mutual friends found him & “friended” him.  In fact, that was how I found out; I read a notice on my friend Erin’s Wall.

I was so hurt & upset because I felt at the time that Kurt was setting up his own virtual identity & I wasn’t a part of it.  The term “friend” reared it’s ugly ambiguous head & I became incredibly jealous.  That one little term made me blind to everything else: home-cooked meals, watching The Wire together, kissing on the Key Bridge suspended over the DC/VA border, our conversations in psuedo-Dutch.

It’s stupid now, but at the time the slight was very real, very immediate.  These are my connections; you are not one of them. Of course, Facebook can never replace the real thing.  It can’t give me what I feel when I watch Kurt nap on the couch, long eyelashes on his cheek & toes peeking out of his holey socks.

Time may also heal all wounds, but Facebook certainly plays on them.  Every time I login, my father’s name & picture pop up in the “Suggestions” sidebar.  I’m currently estranged from him while my sisters, who have “friended” him, are not.  My pulse beats a little faster each time I see his name, remembering all that is between us.

It’s an ironic moment, something that makes me laugh & groan at the same time.  Facebook–the great mediator.  “If only we were Facebook friends, all our problems would be solved.  Or at least I could make it a point to ignore you in cyberspace as well.”

The other wrinkle in this family Facebook drama is that I have a sister I’ve yet to meet.  I can punch in her name & find 5 different people who are about the right age & description.  I can glance at the profiles of strangers & think, “Are you my sister?  Are you?  Are you?” & wonder what that really means.  To have access to someone at the click of a button, to make that connection & have no idea who that person is truly.

Or maybe that’s the trick.  Maybe all Facebook profiles really reveal about us is how little we think we know about each other & ourselves.

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “Love & Dysfunction in Facebookland”

  1. Elizabeth, this is an excellent, excellent post–one that could be published in a magazine or journal somewhere. You should pursue it; I think it is that good.

    Why? Because it is *so* true. In fact, this week, I spent the better part of a morning redoing my privacy settings and moving all those people whom I never talk to into one list, with very little access to my profile, and keeping those very few people whom I want to have full access to the “Facebook version of me” into another list. Also, someone I loathe, detest, do not respect and can’t stand de-friended me last week–and I was angry and hurt. (And amused by my reaction.)

    Right now I am avoiding logging into Fb because I sent a message to someone I haven’t much talked to in a while with an invitation asking her to hang out sometime. I sent the invite on Thursday, and she has yet to respond, and I’ve been obsessing all this time. I’m afraid to log in and face another moment of “rejection.”

    I could ramble on, but I’ll stop now. But I know there are so many people who could respond to your post–my strained relationship with my brother has improved notably since we became Facebook friends–with similar stories, which is why you should publish it somewhere. =)

  2. I, too, love this post because I am addicted to facebook. And I am insecure.I am always wondering if everyone has “hidden” me from their newsfeed because I post so often. And if my posts are too obviously a play for laughs. If any of my facebook “friends” even like me. sigh

    I am so sorry I was the one who outted Kurt to you. And as someone whose husband also can be cybersneaky for his own bizarre and inexplicable social experiments I can totally relate to your feelings. For ages he has been telling me he has a blog. That I have no access to. Why is he doing this? Does he have some whole secret life I can’t be privy to? Is it a joke, just to torment me? Does he need an outlet to vent about his horrible life anonymously? It drives me crazy. It drives me crazy and it is cruel. sigh

Comments are closed.