So I officially deleted my Facebook last night, shortly after I wrote my blog about roommates.
Nobody uses it to network, connect, or share. People use it to stalk. They creep on their “friends” (90% that they’ve never even spent more than 5 drunken minutes at the bar with) or self promote. NOBODY wants to “like” your at home label-making business or blog. People only want to “like” over-paid celebrities and angsty phrases about cheating slimeballs or how a real man treats a woman. That’s all Facebook is. And that’s all I ever did with it. What’s the point?
If I went through and counted how many people have written on my wall or sent me a message in the last month (excluding annoying messages from groups I forgot I joined), I could probably do it with two hands and a couple of toes. Maybe that speaks volumes about my popularity. So why in the sam hill did I feel it necessary to have almost 1000 friends? I sure as heck didn’t care about over half of them.
So last week I deleted them. I got my friends list down to about 500. I still wasn’t satisfied. It irked me that most of those people wouldn’t even notice I’d deleted them. But really what’s the purpose of being “friends” if the entire concept of “friendship” is absent? Maybe I’m just missing the point.
I will probably start having withdrawals. It’s going to be weird not getting updated on who is wearing dresses so short it looks like they forgot their pants. I wonder how I’ll know who is pregnant out of wedlock, who is in a relationship, who is broken up, who is sharing spammy links, or who gained weight since high school. I’m sure I’ll miss it. It’s been less than 24 hours and I’m still running on frustration fumes.
I’m still trying to figure out how I’ll send Mike his daily dose of cute kitten pictures.