“I was deleted by my deceased friend,” and six other real-life Facebook confessions.
Facebook has done for my life what the iceberg did to the Titanic. Stephanie Simons does not like this.
Me and FB—which someone cleverly dubbed “Fecebook” (or was it a marvelous typo?)—have a love-loathe relationship. I’ve disappeared on and off, only to return because it’s a lot like the naked guy in the window across the street: I just have to look.
Don’t get me wrong: there are a few benefits of being virtually active. I resuscitated my Facebook life after a nine-month absence because of the death of a friend who I will always hold near to my soul. Writing on his wall is its own form of therapy, but I will need years of psychological rehab for some of the other things that have happened since my return.
1. I’ve been de-friended by my deceased friend (yes, the very same friend I reactivated my account for). Some people liken virtual “rejection” to being socked in the stomach, but being obliterated by someone who is gone—or, more accurately, the person who is now managing their account—is far worse. I noticed one of my peaceful messages (“I love/miss/am-so-thankful-I-ever-loved-you”) with a photo of a bear mysteriously disappear from the wall where countless others wrote similar things. At first I thought it was a fluke: Who would delete sincere words of kindness? Now the question is, who has access to his personal inbox containing several months of flirty correspondence?
SOCIAL MEDIA STRESS LEVEL: 10+
2. I’ve experienced a new species of identity theft for which there is no real protection. It’s essentially Facebook pilfering, in which people (let’s call them “mother pluckers”) suddenly share more than fifty mutual friends with me because, in one swoop, they’ve plucked all my pals and their mothers off my list under the guise of being my “friend.”
SOCIAL MEDIA STRESS LEVEL: 8
