Friday, December 17, 2010

facebook (redux)

I am a great friend. I'm probably the best friend you'll ever have. I know this because everybody wants to be my friend. Especially beautiful women. They're always super quick to ask me to be friends. I tell you, it's pretty darn flattering to be told by every beautiful woman on the planet that she just wants to be friends with you. Yup, my great friend reputation proceeds me.

Which is why I have an account on Facebook, to keep track of all the women I sta...I mean, of all my friends.1

For the uninitiated, Facebook is an enormously popular social utility which helps people maintain casual awareness of each other in their daily lives.

It's also an increasingly intelligent artificial intelligence that seeks to optimize your emotional distress in life.

One of my favorite things in life is to log into a "social utility", and find it encouraging me to "reconnect" with an "old friend". And by "old friend", it means, "a woman who rejected you".

No, Facebook, I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to reconnect, as some of her last words to me were, and I quote, "just to be clear, I don't want to date you."

But thank you Facebook for asking me to reconnect with her, because that's not at all emotionally painful and borderline sadistic. Also, thank you for occasionally displaying pictures of her and other women who have rejected me in the past. I do not need pictures of these women displayed to me. I am already well aware of their physical beauty. I have spent several years attempting to forget. There is no need to incessantly remind me. Thank you for bringing back those memories every time I log in.

Also, thank you for suggesting I reconnect with a gorgeous woman one day, then further shivving me in the back by informing me of her updated relationship status the next day. If I wanted encouragement to hit on a beautiful engaged former rejectress, I'd start drinking. Your taunting little sidebars aren't going to do it.

Not content with showering you with the pangs of love lost, Facebook has now started showing you where your friends are hanging out. Now, instead of just hearing about those parties you weren't invited to, you can see them happening in real time.

These days I get inundated with helpful messages like: "Bob is at Patxi's with three hundred of your friends, and you weren't invited, you depressing weenie. Why don't you go eat more ice cream, Mr. Chunk-a-lunk?"2

Which leads into Facebook's true utility: escapism. I don't have to have a life, I can watch others have lives. I have a friend who moved to Hong Kong, a dozen friends who post pics of beautiful tropical locales, and what appears to be hundreds of friends who are pregnant. Sitting in Dusseldorf airport,3 plagued by people who talk and laugh loud in every language, I can dream about hiking in the South American jungle, just like every other person in my circle of friends.

And I can be reminded of that one time I mistakenly asked my (now married) friend "do you want to go to bed?" when I see the pictures of her kids.4

And yes, that was a mistake. I meant separately, and in the privacy and comfort of our own separate homes. For the record.

1. I was recently given the privilege of knowing a woman's address, because she foolishly trusted me to not stalk her. As, apparently, multiple other men have. My only experience with stalking is in the fictional women who "hid behind a bush" to watch me that my friend Nonie had my gullible high school self half convinced of before she laughed me to scorn. I am not the most intelligent of men.
2. This is my favorite pejorative moniker. Yes, I think I used pejorative in my last post, but it's my new favorite word.
3. Speaking of which, can I rant for a moment about being charged €3.50 for a Fanta? Are you people kidding me? €3.50??! What sort of scam ring are you running here? How do you sleep at night?
4. I'm reminded that my buddy Jeff and I spent a night in a tent on her lawn one night. I'm not quite sure why. I'm pretty sure we pitched without asking. And that's answer #47 to the question: what do you do for fun in Utah? Other answers include bowling, eating, shooting things, eating, jumping on the hood of a moving car, eating, and sleeping on a cot next to a highway. All of which I have done. As I said, I am not the most intelligent of men.


Jerkolas said...

This is a pretty accurate description of that facebook think, but you forgot its true purpose; nosy voyeurism.

Aroura said...

Who needs to have one of those pesky conversations when you can satisfy your curiosity about "whatever happened to so-and-so?" from the comfort and social seclusion of your computer at ungodly hours of the night?