Our relationship started over two years ago. We hit it off and accumulated a few close friends in the pre-Timeline days. More and more people friended me. I felt so liked because of you, Facebook. We celebrated running accomplishments, getting a huge boost from the support of friends liking my run for that day or the race of the month. We got along well especially when you tipped me off on how to block all games and use the unsubscribe button.
But then our relationship got complicated. You became intrusive, weaseling your way into all my pockets of time. You stroked my attention- and approval-seeking soul and I kept coming back for more. You knew I was a writer with lots of time alone with my computer, so certainly I needed to connect and promote and get feedback instantly. I had quips, fabulous lunches, minor irritations and cute kid phrases that I simply had to share and Facebook, you were there for me, 24/7. So dedicated, never was there a more dedicated entity. No email, no blog, no texting could keep me as entwined as you.
I would edit a page, then scroll Facebook, then edit a few sentences, then back to Facebook to scroll down your belly for any new comments. And I would see all the repost posts and the “this is so funny” posts and the anxiety-producing fear and anger posts. One day (actually many days), I stopped mid-scroll, staring into the hairy bellybutton of you Facebook and said, aloud, “What am I looking for?”
In my Facebook haze, I didn’t know how to answer that, but a small, slightly strangled, rational voice inside told me that if I hadn’t found it after two years, it was time to move on from this relationship. No more lingering ads, no more navigating our privacy issues, no more endless scrolls in the park.
I thought I needed you, Facebook. After 39 days, I’m certain that I don’t.
Farewell, Facebook. It’s not you, it’s me.