Ah, the life of a masochist. We all have that little inkling inside of us, which forces us to do the things we hate. Not simple, beneficial things, such as eating your vegetables, or running just a little longer. We torture ourselves with Facebook, Twitter, and other silly meaningless acts of “networking.” How many times have you followed someone on Twitter, who made your left butt bone ache? How often do you maintain a “friendship” on Facebook, because you dread the awkwardness that comes with “unfriending.” ‘Tis a bizarre world that we create for ourselves. But why?
I honestly have no answer whatsoever, but I found myself pondering this notion a few months ago, when my ex-husband requested me as a Facebook friend. I went through all sorts of changes, trying to hash out why I did not want to be friends with him at that time. The things he had done happened so long ago, and I was over that right? What legitimate reason could I have for not being his friend on this harmless networking site? We talk in real life, and I live with a fair amount of transparency, correct? And if I don’t want to be friends, don’t I owe him an explanation why? I’m friends with his mother and siblings. Well, I came to this conclusion: because I didn’t want to. We have the right to decide what we do and do not want in our cypher. I’m okay with being friends with his family, thus far. I didn’t want that connection with him, and I don’t owe him a damn thing, and that includes an explanation.
The flip side, is the people who make comments regarding when a person has chosen to block them. I think as a society, we have lost the concept of parameters. My mother always instructed me that if someone didn’t want to be bothered with you socially, it’s not up to you to “sell” yourself to them. Leave them the hell alone. Not everyone is going to be down. There is a natural degree of confusion that comes with not being liked, but we have to realize that not everything is for everyone, up to and including our personalities. Taking individuals to task, however, for not wanting to play in your sandbox, is a bit much.
So rather than dealing with the social awkwardness that comes with clipping the tenuous technological tethers that bind us to people with whom we would not typically associate in real life, we hide, ignore and gnash our teeth over their gaffes, ignorance and that ache in our butt bone. It really has to stop. I found myself removing people today. No, it didn’t feel “freeing;” it felt like, “What the hell took you so long?” I can deal with that though.