Facebook

The weirdest thing that happened to me this week:

I'm generally wary of people asking me to be their "friend" on FaceBook. I don't have many friends, and those that are on FaceBook are already on my friends list. Hence, most people wanting to add me to their ever-growing collection of names are usually minor acquaintances, that I might have had for Spanish 3 back in high school. A few months ago, one guy that tracked me down found my name in his MIDDLE SCHOOL year book. Look, Guy or whatever your name was. Nothing whatsoever happened in Middle School--NOTHING--that is, beyond the deep emotional scars that even now keep me quietly sobbing into my pillow on the particularly lonely nights. You are NOT my friend, and I know this because I HAD NO FRIENDS in middle school. I do not appreciate you, or those of your ilk reminding me of that. Please fuck off and die. K, thanx, bi.

I used different words than that in my response.

So it was with great trepidation that I opened a friend request this week from some broad called "Emily." I had no idea who she was, what the hell LSU stood for, or where Mandeville High School was. And since she listed her political views as "very conservative", I could very easily rule out her being my "friend."

So I had to do something I hate. I had to send, for the 48th goddamn time, a message to some random person to the general effect of: "Please don't take this personally, but who the hell are you?"

As it transpires, I must have known this chick when I was seven years old. I say "must have" because she knew what neighborhood I lived in back then, and my first and last name, which was enough to track me down. I don't know which is worse, that she is so obsessed with Facebook that she went through the trouble of tracking my ass down fifteen years later, or that she cared so much about me that she REMEMBERED me all this time and went through the trouble of tracking me down. She's either a nut job or I'm a horrible person. What if, at the tender age of eight, I said something deep and philosophical that inspired her throughout the years, getting her through the rough patches with her alcoholic father, or her mother's horrible brain cancer? And then I FORGOT her ass.

Whatever the case, she went through the trouble, so that was well worth allowing her into the sacred halls of my friends list. Watch and see if she ever writes me again.