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Dear Facebook Comments on Engagement Status Updates

Dear Facebook Comments on Engagement Status Updates,

It’s January, so everyone’s gearing up for wedding season. Which is in the summer, I believe, unless you live in the Southwest, and then it *should* be in the winter, but for some warped reason, is not. Or maybe it is, what do I know.

The point is, people on my FB newsfeed are getting engaged, and good for them, whatever. I say whatever because I have basically no opinions on whether or not they should be— if I find out about an engagement on FB, chances are good I’m not in that close touch with the couple and really can’t speak to their “readiness.”

Right about now you’re all, “Whaaaa? No opinions? What is even happening right now?” And you’re flailing your arms around like a muppet without a puppeteer, because your world is crashing down around you.

Yes. That is how much I imagine you care about the things I say. Leave me to it.

So people— let’s call them Adam and Eve, random names I picked for no reason, certainly no other couple in the world has ever been paired with those monikers— get engaged on FB. I mean, they get engaged in real life (at least I hope), and then they put it on FB. And they’ve been together for 2.6 years, and own 1.3 dogs and have 6.7 Apple products between the two of them, and 17.8 pieces of Ikea furniture. Adam and Eve post 123 pictures of food on FB per year, and 1,234 vacation pictures, and only wear matching sunglasses ironically.

Ok, so I’m lying. They totally wear the matching sunglasses sincerely, and it’s more like 14.2 Apple products. The point is, they’ve been together a decent length of time, and they’re 25 years old.

And then about 345 people “like” the engagement status post and say a bunch of things like, “Congratulations!” and “Congrats!” and just the word “C!” which I assume in this context continues to communicate felicitations, and not the other C-word. But maybe that post was from an ex, what do I know. But he should keep it to himself at that point.

And then approximately half the people (that would be 172.5) say some variation of this: “Finally!” or “It’s about time!” or “It’s been too long!”

Now look, I’ve had some tank tops longer than 2.6 years. I know couples who have been together for 8 years without getting married. (This does not make them “casual” or “unsure,” by the way. And no, these are not people who “don’t believe” in marriage and so will never get married. They just haven’t. Yet.) I’ve been with my coffeepot for four years now, and while I like it, and it makes me happy every single day, I’m not ready to marry it. And yes, sure, my parents got married at 26, but I turn 26 in March, and I think I might spend my birthday going to see The Hunger Games.

Not that married people don’t like The Hunger Games, too, but perhaps you get my drift. Twenty-five year olds are doing different things now than they used to…..for example, my aunt and uncle were going to see Animal House, not The Hunger Games. And they’re divorced now.

I’m making jokes, yes, but I’m really very serious when I say that really— really—- it has not been too long when Adam and Eve, who have been dating for 2.6 years and who are 25 years old, get engaged. What, were they supposed to get engaged before they could officially sync all their devices through iCloud? Before they’d filled their Pinkberry punchcards? Before they’d weathered fifteen seasons of American Idol? (Is that show on six times a year? I don’t understand.)

Yes, I’m still making jokes. But it does take time to get to know someone. And then things change, and you have to get to know them all over again. And you have to get to know this third entity you’ve created between the two of you, your relationship. And then you move, and you have to get to know a new city. And then once all that is done, maybe you just want to be together. For a while. And then for longer. And then for a few years after that. And maybe you love them, but you’re still unsure for whatever number of good or bad reasons, or maybe you’re very sure, but you aren’t ready to get married, or your bank account isn’t ready to get married, or your Apple products are still adjusting to a blended household.

Weddings aren’t going anywhere. Neither is the person you’re with. And if they are– if they’re threatening to leave you if the two of you don’t get married– and if they’re doing so because you clearly aren’t committed and they’re trying to get you to prove it by slapping a ring on it– or because they’re feeling competitive with their FB newsfeed even though the two of you, together, as a couple, don’t really want to get married– then maybe we should all be posting “finally!” when FB shows that tiny broken heart next to your names. Or at least we’ll think it.

Except for that person who’ll post, “Oh no! But you two were perfect for each other! What happened?!?”

On the other hand, this morning FB let my friend in Boston tell me where to buy these cute shoes I’ve been wanting for a year. So it really does help us connect in very meaningful ways.

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Categories Disciplinary Memos

Dear Saying Goodbye at Parties

11 Nov

Dear Saying Goodbye at Parties,

I hate saying goodbye at parties. Not, like, dinner parties or whatever. But parties at bars, birthday parties with more then 12 guests, Halloween parties, house parties, New Year’s parties, dance parties, 80′s parties, 70′s parties, disco parties, come-as-your-favorite-literary-character parties, pool parties, beach parties, bachelorette parties, holiday parties, barbecues, weddings, etc.

Any sort of party where I can’t wave to everyone at once and be done with it.

Before you start thinking I’m horrible, let’s review the facts:

1) You might already think I’m horrible.

2) Everyone’s always drunk, so saying goodbye is like herding cats. Or drunk people.

3) This is the thing everyone says, even if they haven’t talked to you once and you only met them AS you were saying goodbye to the person they were standing next to, and even if it’s 1:50 am and the bar’s about to shut down: “You’re leaving? Don’t leeeeeeave. Staaaaaaaay. We’ll have fuuuuuuuuuun.” Thus forcing me to say something mean (it’s unavoidable at that point!) like, “I’m going to have more fun being in bed than I possibly would with you.” or “The only fun you’re going to have is with your toilet. By the way, you might want to pull your hair back now.” It’s good to be prepared. And far away, asleep, while someone else is puking.

4) When you go to say goodbye to people, and it’s late, and they’re drunk, they start hugging you. Even if in normal social contexts, this person and you would never press your private parts together. And then the next person does it because they saw the first person do it and they don’t want to be rude, or something? So instead they grope you.

5) When I decide I’m ready to leave a party, it means I’m ready to leave. It does not mean I want to leave 30 minutes later after you have engaged me in random conversation about where I got my coat after I came to say goodbye to you. First of all, this coat is four years old, so you’re not going to find it in any stores. Secondly, I’m wearing it for a reason. Thirdly, I feel like you’re holding me hostage. I mean, how can I walk away from a compliment? That’s right— I can’t.

6) But then I have to find something to compliment you on, and you have to shrug it off, and then I have to either insist or revert to mission and be like, “Ok then! Bye!” and look like a total asshole and like I completely 100% did not mean that thing you just forced me to say. And then you’ll remember me less-than-fondly.

Whereas if I just jet out the door, chances are good you won’t remember me at all. You won’t remember whether or not I said goodbye, or whether or not we talked. You might not even remember if I was there. You definitely won’t care that I took off– in fact, you might even blame yourself for being too busy to catch me as I was going. You’ll just be like, “That was a good party. I want Doritos for breakfast.”

And I’ll be like, “That was great! I decided I wanted to leave and then I walked out the door and was asleep 20 minutes later. I am definitely going to the next thing she throws.”

Love,

Comments 3 Comments
Categories Disciplinary Memos

Dear I Do Love Some Facebook Status Updates

17 Aug

Dear I Do Love Some Facebook Status Updates,

I thought I would quit being such a misanthropic hater and tell you some of the things I like on Facebook. I am, after all, on the damn thing.

1. Anything that implies (but does not demonstrate) nudity. Unless you are really, really attractive. But I’m not FB friends with Joshua Jackson, so keep it to yourself.

2. Anything that’s scandalous, particularly if it’s of an interpersonal nature and I know the parties involved.

3. Wedding pictures. Especially if you have 14 bridesmaids. I will look at all of them.

4. Pictures of your baby dressed up as things that are not babies.

5. Relationship status changes. Especially if I went to high school with you. Especially if you’re now dating someone else we went to high school with.

6. Jokes. I will read them. Points for quote substitutions, puns, double entendres. Basically, any sort of wordplay. I am a nerd.

7. Super interesting articles from around the internet. The likelihood that I will click on them is inversely proportional to how serious they are. The likelihood that I will read them once I open them directly correlates with whether someone starts talking to me on gchat. I am apparently not actually interested in the world.

I did really like the 30 harshest filmmaker-on-filmmaker insults. I am a sucker for a list.

And I will look at any sort of infographic there is. Or Venn diagram. That shizz is instantaneously comprehended, you guys! The implications for education are amazing. Someone should look into this. Like, to teach kids how to write, we could teach them how to diagram sentences…. oh wait.

Ok, most of those links I didn’t get from Facebook. You guys basically only post about politics and sports and how much you hate your jobs. YAWN. You can go back to being drunk and having existential crises and taking pictures of food now.

Love,