I was reading an article last week about DivineCaroline and was surprised to see that the article used the term “social networking site” in its description.
I don’t doooo social networking sites. Upon reading this I was, well, offended.
Of course the minute I stopped and thought about it, I realized that not only is DivineCaroline a social networking site, but I most certainly use the site in that capacity. So why the offense? Well, I had drawn a distinction between my activities on DivineCaroline and my limited activities on Facebook because, well, I like to think my activities on DivineCaroline are superior to those that I find on Facebook. And I really don’t like Facebook. And I really love DivineCaroline. And, truthfully, I have a nasty little habit of labeling the things that I love as “noble” and the things that I don’t as “trashy.” (Don’t judge me. You know you do it, too.)
So, sorry Facebook, I’m closing the book on you.
It’s nothing personal. Okay. Actually, it is. Very personal. And that, for me, is the problem. Don’t feel bad. It’s not you, it’s me. Well, actually it is you.
1. I realize most of my opinions are not ready for Stepford Primetime.
When every Stepford Wife from my neighborhood and my church started friending me, it was claustrophobic. And it isn’t just the Wives. The Husbands are friending me, too. And my boss! This is no good. If the Husbands are reading, how am I supposed to write about the slapping noise my breasts make against my rib cage if I run up the stairs without a bra? I do not need my flat-slapping breasts to be the topic of conversation at the monthly Husband’s Breakfast. My Husband, well, he would seriously frown upon this. And before you tell me I have the capacity to not accept someone as a friend, let me just tell you that that would be the Stepford equivalent of giving someone the finger. No good at all. I live here, people. My Obama sign was pushing it. I have no more punches on my card.
2. I really don’t care that you finished your laundry. Or made a roast with rosemary from your garden for dinner. Or that volunteering at VBS was ridiculously tiring. Or that Jack said “duck.” Or that Emma slept through the night. Or that you just consumed a $100 bottle of wine—by yourself. Just as I’m sure you don’t care that I never finish my laundry. Or that I can count on one finger the number of times I’ve made a roast and would never grow my own spices. Or that I would rather have my head inserted into a meat grinder than to ever volunteer at VBS again. Or that I don’t remember most of my children’s early speech. Or that my oldest child didn’t sleep through the night until he was ten. Or that I would NEVER spend $100 on a single bottle of anything unless it was meant to keep me alive.
3. I know you don’t look that good. I’ve seen you in person, remember? And while we’re on the subject, I know your life isn’t that fabulous. I know your husband isn’t always that nice. And I know your kids don’t always behave. I also know, that just like me, you have a Target addiction, cellulite, and that your crow’s feet are much more noticeable without concealer. I also know you’ve had a boob job, a tummy tuck, and lipo. Just like you know that I have grey pubes, color the hair on my head, whiten my teeth, and wear a miracle bra.
4. This wall writing thing is a lot like yearbooks. Are we really in our forties and still competing to see who can get the most signatures? Or still counting to see who has the most pictures, or friends, or is in the most activities? I wasn’t the most popular or most beautiful chick back in 1985. It bothered me then. But I’ve moved on. At least now, I can get my hair in the car and my jeans don’t touch my armpits. And while we’re on the subject of high school, I’m really unsettled by the appearance of people wanting to reconnect with me after twenty-four years. Really? If we were that good of friends, wouldn’t we have remained in touch? And if I were interested in reconnecting, wouldn’t I have attended at least one class reunion? I’m not lost. I’m just somewhere else. On purpose.
Here’s the deal. I write for many reasons. One of them is that it allows me to be honest. Sometimes painfully so. Writing allows me to pull back the curtains on my life and look at it in the light of day. When I do this, the results cannot be guaranteed. DivineCaroline provides me with a space that allows me to write without reservation.
Sorry Facebook, you’re just so … Stepford.