Facebook, Stop Judging Me
At this point, we all know that nothing you do matters until you change your Facebook profile to mark its existence. All moves to new cities, new internships, puppies, apartments, and boyfriends must be cataloged and offered up to your friends, family, one-night-stands-who-you-stay-Facebook-friends-with-you-so-you-don’t-have-to-admit-to-yourself-that-they-mean-exactly-nothing-to-you, and porny spam bots who you haven’t gotten around to un-friending. That is what a Facebook profile is for, to prove you exist and do things and are someone. Facebook Official or It Didn’t Happen. We lost the battle, we’re half robots, and we live online. Whatever. We’re not here to deal with that little existential disaster today.
Here’s what really twists my titties: With the shift from “Wall” to “Timeline,” Facebook has not only incited all the “change is haaaard” bitch-babies to start status-screaming about the new format, but it has started giving more space to the announcement of certain life events on a person’s Timeline. For example, if you get married or engaged, there is a notation that stretches across the entire width of your personal page. Additionally, your friends will see all the photos of you and your beloved on their News Feed, and there will be a notification on the top of all your friends’ home pages, next to the birthdays. Only, unlike birthdays, that notice will stay posted for several days. Because getting born is important, but you’re nobody until you’ve registered your sex life with the government. This is pretty not okay. By giving varying degrees of attention and page space to certain changes to your profile, Facebook is effectively quantifying the events and achievements in a person’s life. Is Facebook’s spatial judgment a reflection of our own pre-existing perception of the hierarchy of life’s benchmarks, or is Facebook itself now affecting how we rank them? Either way, it’s a problem. I know we are not entirely living in a time where all life choices are viewed equally, but ugh, weren’t we on our way? Are we not still? If we spend half our day staring at our friend’s Timelines to get an idea of how their life is going, doesn’t it matter if Facebook chooses to give more weight to some accomplishments and notable events than others? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, FACEBOOK? GOD? MY MOTHER?
You could change your job title to “Executive VP of Earth, October 2012 — Forever” and FB would be all like, “Oh, what? Oh, how fetch. Well done. Now have a bite of steaming hot sitdown because *booming Oprah voice* THAT ANNOYING DUMB TWAT FROM HIGH SCHOOL GOT MARRRRIIIIIEEEED TO THAT ANNOYING DUMB PENIS-FACE FROM HIGH SCHOOOOOL! RELEASE THE BALLOONS! BRING OUT THE CAKE! UNLEASH THE HOUNDS! COVER ALL THE TIMELINE!” According to Facebook, there is no greater achievement than tying a ball and chain around your genitals. Ugh. Someone please tell Facebook to stop trying to make “fetch” happen, and then tell it to suck my dick.
WHILE WE’RE AT IT (We’re caffeinated. We’re ranting. We’re using the editorial “we” like it grows on trees. Let’s do this), where is the overblown news feed parade for people who end relationships? What if you finally left the twisted ass who hit you that one time? Or you, at long last, mustered all of your brutal self-awareness and made the selfless choice to let your itching-to-wife-you boyfriend know that you need to do you right now and, consequently, not do him? Or you realized you were super gay and released your full-time piece so you could both go hump on things you were actually attracted to, ya know, genitally? These are tremendous moments of personal evolution, enlightenment, empowerment, bravery, and yet Facebook seems to assume that the conclusion of every relationship is a sad, somber little secret. They are doing you a solid by tucking away the amendment to your profile, hopefully unnoticed lest all your “friends” think you and your Masters degree are now taking the Express Lame (typo but it stays) to Spinsterville, where you will cry yourself to sleep in your spacious, unshared bed, before waking up in your clean, peaceful, kid-free apartment to go to your thoroughly challenging and fulfilling job, where you will work your ass off and disappoint exactly no one by coming home late, aka, THE WORST FATE IMAGINABLE.
To be clear: I’m not hating on the marrieds (they always think I am! But I’m not! *”High-pitched old grandmother insisting how okay with ‘the gays’ she is” voice*.) I think Facebook, for all its flaws and potential to entirely deconstruct the interpersonal skills and empathy of the civilized world, is a really great platform for allowing for the public celebration of all kinds of things, including getting hitched and getting babied, and I’m glad to have the chance to throw my love to people when that happens. I will Like your relationship status change. Because I’m a friend. And I’m happy for you. I’m just saying, Facebook is being kind of a judgey douche for not thinking it’s equally noteworthy when someone buys their first house, or pays off their credit cards, or finally finds a haircut that works for them.
Oh, also, since I would rather eat a butt than give my relationship the Kiss of Death that is inscribing it on Facebook, I want that little heart icon next to an announcement that I bought health insurance for the first time.
Shut it down, Facebook. You don’t know me.
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Describe for us the threesome with your OKCupid hookup.
If this doesn’t become the biggest video on the Internet, then I have no faith left in humanity.
I’m about to finish up my sophomore fall of college, and friends from home are getting married and having babies and sufficiently freaking me out.
He was a perfect date. I later got drunk and hacked his phone (who uses their birth year for a password? It was 1986, by the way #teamcougar). What I found was a text to a Kristina explaining his aforementioned sex dream he’d had about her while sleeping next to me in a luxurious hotel bed.