DEAR FACEBOOK BFF: IT’S NOT ME, IT’S YOU

To my dearest Facebook BFF (Best Friends Forever!),

          From the moment you “friended” me on Facebook, I’ve cherished your virtual-osity. It’s amazing that we both live in the same small town, but it was Facebook that connected us and not a social function or playground outing. Unlike my “flesh and blood” friends, there was no courting period for us. From your first posting I knew that you were my social networking soul sister.

How I looked forward to your pithy status updates, your “thumb-up likes” and your YouTube attachments of diapered babies dancing to Beyonce and maudlin Rufus Wainwright music videos. You always let me know when and where you and your family were vacationing and chose me as overseer for your “Farmville.” I spent hours trolling the web to “likes” everything you “likes-ed!” (You can’t see it, but I have my thumb up.) Your cyber sidebar was your soul into which I stared and saw a glimpse of myself.

How I loved the way you filled your comments with hearts and smiley faces. Remember that night at two a.m. when you chatted how to make a smiley face sticking its tongue out? Who knew that a colon was more than just a major part of the digestive system? I’ve coloned and upper case P’d more silly faces then I can count! All thanks to your artistic keyboard tutorials. And we were both drinking Pinot Noir. Coincidence? I think not.

I so enjoyed our late night chats about the kids, the moles that peppered your husband’s back, and your mother-in-law’s obsessive need to inform everyone about your three pinky toes. How can I ever thank you for letting me lean on your “wall” the night that I thought I was pregnant?  If anyone else had commented “Peri-menopausal” I would have run them over, but when followed by your “ROFLMAO” you made me LOL until I PMP.

That’s why it saddens me to write this. I would have posted it on your “wall,” but I was cut-off after 400 characters, and acronyms cannot properly express everything that I have to say. So, here it goes. We have such a tight virtual bond that when I finally saw you in person I thought there would be tears, laughter, embraces. At the very least, “Hello, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Instead, you gave off vibes that carried a much different message.

When I first saw the real you at the opening ceremony for soccer, I dismissed your dismissiveness. I thought that the reason you didn’t respond to my enthusiastic waves and shout-out’s of your name was because the sun was in your eyes and people were blocking your view of me. And I didn’t bring it up that night when we were chatting on Facebook because you had me crying describing how your son’s coach was coming on to you while he directed your husband to practice drills with the Kinder-Kickers. In one night you restored my confidence in our relationship, and I felt silly that I had ever doubted your fidelity.

Just when I was feeling good about us, doubt came creeping in again when you body-checked my derrière with your shopping cart in the frozen food aisle of Shop Rite. At first I was thrilled thinking that you were being playful, but when I shouted, “Hey girlfriend, “Leggo my Eggo!” as you bolted pass me, I realized that your expression was more “Get away from me you crazy stalker or I will call Security,” than “Sorry , but I don’t have time to chat. I’m late picking up the kids so I’m just tapping you with my cart to show you I care.” Still, I moved on emotionally.

However, when you gave me the finger last week at back to school night, and told me to stop following you I realized that you had no idea who I was. I was crushed that you could not identify my real person from my Facebook thumbnail photo. I mean, I recognized you even though it’s clear that your picture is dated and you’re not a real blond.

So it is with deep regret that I must “un-friend” you. I will miss your “LOL’s,” your “LMAO’s” and your “TTYL’s.”  Believe me when I tell you, it’s you, not me.  :P