On Growing Apart

Before Chris, I had one previous relationship.
It was right before college, and it was everything a new relationship should be.
Fun, exciting, a bit confusing, overwhelming and addicting.
Yes, I said addicting.
I'm talking about my relationship with an awkward blue faced man named The Facebook.
Not Facebook.
The Facebook.

Unless you're a veteran Facebook'r like myself, you probably don't even recognize this guy.
He goes way back.
 Back to a time when things were easier, gas was cheaper, and Tiger Woods was still thought of as good husband golfer husband.
I'm talking about 2005. Times were good back then. They were simple.
This is what a profile page looked like.

Remember this? I hardly do either.
It was my sister who first introduced me to The Facebook, she said
"you're so lucky you're just starting college, all of the young kids love this."
And I responded,
"I don't get it, why would I just want to look at photos of people I hardly know."
Silly me. Silly, silly, silly me.
It wouldn't take long for me to realize I didn't just like browsing photos of almost strangers,
I loved it.

As I got further into college, my relationship with the blue faced man continued to grow.
I was right there with him for all of the changes.
Photo albums? You mean I can have more that just a profile pic?
Status updates? That's ridiculous, I'll never update mine....
Bumper stickers? Groups? Events? Chat?
Check-ins? Tagging?
MINI FEED? I was sure the world was ending with the mini feed.
But then came timeline and cover photos.
It was all so much, but I handeld it with stride. Because if you knew me,
you knew I loved my Facebook.

Did I have too much time on my hands? Definitely.
Did I sometimes like to pretend I was a secret agent uncovering breakups and new jobs before others?
Perhaps.
All it took was a little digging through photos and status updates for the past few months or so...
The information was always there.
In another time people might have thought of me as the crazy old neighborhood lady who
knew just a bit too much about everyone else.
What can I say, I was just watching out.
I might as well have had a McGruff sign on my Facebook page stating I was a safe house,
all visitors were welcome.

Well then one day things began to change.
Ads started popping up, Facebook started to tell me what I liked, and who I should hang out with.
People started to invite me to online Farm with them.
Which by the way, Facebook friends, STOP inviting me to your Farmville.
I'm not down with that. And the fact you're thirty five and farming virtual crops makes me wonder about you, as well. Go take care of your kid. Worry about your online squash later.
And then I was seeing photos in my minifeed of people I didn't know holding signs like
"If I get to 300,000 likes I might feel okay about my life for the day"
and it weirded me out.
Or random stories about men sticking up to their wives,
or wives leaving their husbands, or kids telling their parents to screw off- all with 4.5K likes.
Why are we liking this?
And then there were the people selling almost new underwear for $2.50 on the
Madison County Exchange group.
Which I'm not even a member of... So why do I have to see random old stuff people are trying to pawn off?

And I realized it was no longer the Facebook I knew and loved.
It was no longer my escape, like everything else it had just warped into one giant shitshow.
Me and Facebook had drifted apart. It was as if we hardly even knew each other at this point.
We had broken up.

Yes, I still update from time to time. And I obviously like to post about my blog,
but in all honestly that's about it these days.
I don't scroll, browse, or creep like I used to. It's just not the same.
And why would I?
I have Instagram now.

Unlike Facebook, which was ruined by adults (sorry, mom.)
Instagram is slowly dying because of teenagers,
so hurry up and get on while it's still fun.

It's been real Facebook, thanks for six great years, and two mediocre ones.
XOXO
twolfe4@bigred.unl.edu