fbOn Friday, some of you (if you’re like me) may have thought that you had stroke—but it was just Facebook changing the layout of its homepage.  “That’s it!” You no doubt yelled, disrupting the bureaucratic quiet of your office.  Co-workers turned to glance from their computer screens, unfazed (they are quite familiar with your outbursts by now).  “I’m done with this shit,” you probably cried. “I’m quitting Facebook!”  If you’re anything like me…

Okay, so I’ll admit it: Within ten minutes, I had posted an updated status message about the latest Facebook layout and how much I hated it.  Look, I know I’ll never quit Facebook.  I’m addicted to it.  Just ask anyone I’m friends with.  I’m always posting links, notes, pictures, mobile updates, status updates, etc.  I’ve actually been told that people enjoy my posts that pop up on their newsfeeds.  Seriously, I’m that awesome.

But this whole foray into possibly finally ending my long and sometime combative relationship with the social networking giant (as brief as it was) churned up a few moments of self-reflection and forced me to ask the question: Just why the hell am I on Facebook?   The answer came quickly, without a moment’s contemplation: To make sure that people I know (but are not really that close with), particularly ex-girlfriends, are living less fulfilling lives than mine.  AND to continue the charade that I’m living the high life that I always hoped I would (but really never did).

So listen up:

  • Everyone I knew growing up in Virginia and stayed there after I moved to New York—I’m living the good life up here.  Partying every night, on a successful and promising career path, and most definitely did not have a dinner that comprised solely of ramen noodles seasoned by my tears last night.
  • Kid I was on the track team with—I don’t want to see photos from your solo motorcycle trip across the country.  Yes, I want a motorcycle.  No, I can’t afford it.  God, I envy you.
  • The girl who sat next to me in trig class—I don’t want to read about your crazy nights out with your close-knit group of friends.  Don’t post pictures either.
  • That chick I hooked up with Sophomore Year—I don’t care about your bachelorette party. Or your wedding ….to your “soul mate.”
  • Guy who I was roommates with for a semester—please stop sharing the details of your incredibly successful and important job that compensates you both with karma and a huge salary.  Also, can I borrow some money?

[ Pic via Facebook.com]

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