I’m not saying Facebook is evil. Even though, in fact, Facebook is evil.
But I’m still recovering from yesterday’s Facebook session, aided by a fifth of decent vodka.
Normally, I check Facebook only two or three times a day… not because I actually care about politics or dog photos, but just because… well, I’ve been spending a lot of time at home lately, and not many pieces of furniture are quite as fascinating as my computer.
But yesterday was especially tough. I’m still “Friends” with my ex-wife Darlene, for no particular reason other than we spent 15 years sleeping in the same bed. So I was shocked — and yes, a bit hurt — when I saw her wedding announcement posted on Facebook, for all the world to see.
A bit hurt? Actually, I was devastated. She could have sent me a personal email, for example, or called me on the phone, and let me know, before spreading the news to all her “Friends” on Facebook.
How many of her Facebook “Friends” knew about her engagement, before I did? (I hadn’t logged in until about 10am that morning.) Hundreds, probably. Most of whom had never slept in the same bed with her.
Yesterday was especially tough. But I already said that.
I don’t blame Darlene. (Which was one of the problems with our marriage. I never blamed her, when I should have.) It’s so much more convenient to post your wedding announcement on Facebook than to actually pick up the phone and have a conversation with your ex-husband who might, in spite of everything, still be in love with you.
Someone has to be blamed, however. And I pick Facebook. Facebook did this to me. And I will have my revenge.
It took only a minute or two to find the section of my account where I could delete “Friends.” I had never visited that section before. Yes, I have occasionally “Unfollowed” this or that person after too many dog photos, but I had never gone so far as to “Unfriend” anyone. That has always seemed like a cruel thing to do, even to “Friends” with whom I wouldn’t even share my phone number.
No one said revenge is pretty.
Running through my list of “Friends”, I realized just how many people with whom I’d formed a Facebook relationship, who probably wouldn’t call me even if I shared my phone number with them. Several of them were, in fact, no longer living… except they were still living on Facebook, smiling at me from their profile photos. I did not feel the slightest bit guilty “Unfriending” the people who had died. I assumed they would never notice.
The next group was only slightly more challenging. I asked myself, “Have I ever shared a beer with this person?” If not, out they went. Unfriended. That left me with only about ten friends, but they were actually friends.
One of them, of course, was Darlene… the person who had (unintentionally I’m sure) brought about this massive cleansing operation.
How to deal with Darlene.
I could easily have Unfriended her, knowing that I would otherwise be viewing photos of her happy marriage for the rest of my life. Likely, they would end up getting a dog, and the dog would do cute things, and I’d see them posted on my Facebook page. The new husband might be into politics, and Darlene might, out of sense of loyalty, start sharing photos of Biden and Harris, smiling and waving… or Trump, snarling.
Who knows what the future might bring?
But for now, I have the satisfaction of knowing that Facebook lost 423 “Friends” who will never again show their faces (or dogs) on my personal page.
Not quite as satisfying as I had hoped. But better than doing nothing.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.