It’s been a quiet, bitter fight, at least on my side of the fence. My friends either don’t know (well now they do…), or they make compassionate sounds while avoiding eye contact and tappy-tapping little notes to that bitch.
That vile, conniving, stalking, evil, self-centered, money-grubbing succubus of a mistress: Facebook.
Now let me tell you how I really feel:
Like all of these kinds of relationships, the golden overtones of early days faded into the hum of daily bustle. I sent small notes from time to time; she chattered about inane headlines that I just wouldn’t believe. I tried to catch up with my friends, but she wouldn’t let me go, instead trying to foist her pals on me.
We weren’t exactly happy, but we were making things work.
She started telling me lies and screwing with my head; “Oh, my day was soooo bad and your friends are all depressed; How are you feeling?” And then, she issued an ultimatum. “You will do things my way, or I will cut you off.”
Anyone who knows me at all, knows that’s not the way to get me to play ball.
I moved out.
For the last six weeks, I’ve only seen Facebook when I can’t avoid her; mostly when one of you sends me a message through the FB interface.
For the foreseeable future, I’ll ask Facebook to let you know when I’ve updated my website, but that’s all I can stomach asking that fickle harlot for.
I look forward to the day I can put this nastiness behind me and even more so to sharing with you the name of a more more faithful, steadfast companion.
Until then, though, you can find me at my usual haunts: