I am just not that into you …

I’ll confess, I do look at Facebook when I can. 

On its best days, it’s an interesting and thoughtful place. 

You can see photos and catch up on news from old friends, reconnect with people you haven’t seen in a long time, congratulate friends on birthdays, anniversaries and the like, and let people know they are still in your thoughts. 

I am especially taken by the “Are you from …” groups that feature articles and old photos from newspapers, yearbooks, and personal collections spanning decades.  Often you see people, places and events you remember fondly, and discover historical facts you never knew.  

Through Facebook I’ve connected with people I haven’t seen or spoken to in 40 or 50 years, learned the sad fates of some childhood pals, and the successes of others, and been surprised at how some of them have changed – or not changed – over the years.  It’s fascinating at times.   

Then there’s the rest of Facebook. You know, where egos soar and narcissists abound. 

If you’ve been on Facebook you know what I’m talking about. 

And if you’re one of these people who feel compelled to share every waking moment of your life with all of us, I want you to know something.

I’m just not that into you.   

Seriously, I know you find yourself fascinating – and the center of the universe – but I don’t.

So if anyone wondered why I don’t show up in their friends list anymore, or why I haven’t commented on their latest posting, that’s probably the reason. 

I don’t care what you’re thinking of having for dinner, what you’re actually having for dinner, or what you had for dinner. Or where you had dinner.  Or breakfast.  Or lunch for that matter.  I don’t need to see pictures of what you’re about to eat or the label on the bottle of wine you are about to drink – I’ll  take your word for it that it’s all good. 

You routinely share pictures of you on a plane, on a boat, in some foreign location, wearing a stupid hat, holding a fish you caught or tacky souvenir you bought, or pictures of what you see out your hotel or airplane window.  No one wants to tell you this, but it’s all really boring; kind of like being stuck in an extended slideshow of someone’s month-long bus tour of Nebraska. 

I am glad you had a good time wherever you went.  Be satisfied with that.

On a related issue, understand that while some of your followers might be, I’m not obsessed with you.  I don’t need to know every step of your journey to wherever.  You are not a rock star or celebrity, except to yourself and maybe some of your friends.  So documenting where you are every minute of every day isn’t necessary for me.  If you are in the Platinum Cloud Club awaiting your next flight, good for you.  If you’re just leaving or arriving at SFO, MIA, PHL, EWR or some other airport, that’s something your family might want to know.  Me, not really.   

The same goes for what you’re listening to right now.  Or, most likely, what you’ve pirated from some online file-sharing (stealing) site.  I get that you want to be hip and listen to what you think the younger, infinitely more hip generation likes.  If you’re 30-something or older, you know most of the stuff deemed edgy today sounds like crap, with no melody, stupid lyrics, and ripped off “sampling” from real artists.  And it all pretty much sounds the same.  Like crap. 

So stop pretending that you really, really like bands with names like “Stabbing Puppies with a Fork” or “Jesus on Toasted Rye” or “Kill all the Bitches and MoFo Pigs.” Frankly, you're embarrassing yourself. 

Do you want to know what young people – early 20s – really enjoy?  Surprise – it’s the same stuff we grew up with – classic rock, Beatles, Stones, Pink Floyd, Deep Purple – and modern day groups that still have that sound.  You know, the music you listen to when you’re not trying to impress someone.  The tunes you have on your workout mix.  Sure, they may like some hip-hop, too.  But they really love the classics. 

Flagging your pathetic desire to be seen as cool by claiming your adoration of obscure, forgettable bands and artists today, or your embrace of Spotify as the second coming, only makes you look shallow.  Which you are, but there’s no reason to keep demonstrating it. 

Here’s another tip:  Reposting drivel from special interest PACs and single-issue lobbying groups won’t change my mind or anybody else’s about GMO foods, Obama, gun control, liberals or conservatives, vaccinations, immigration or anything else.  If you’re doing it in hopes it will, you’re wasting your time; you’re just preaching to the choir. If you’re hoping to start a dialogue so you have something to rant about with other people who already agree with you, go right ahead.  I won’t be there. 

While I’m at it, enough with the treacly “repost if you agree” crap about how wonderful cousins, sisters, brothers, mothers, daughters, grandparents, brothers-in-law, whatever, are.  Nobody disagrees.  But sometimes “sweetness” has its limits. Too much and you risk a diabetic coma.  Even K-mart stopped selling the big-eyed-kids-holding-flowers prints decades ago.  

I feel the same about multiple inspirational postings.  These are the modern day equivalent of the kitten-on-the-clothesline picture captioned “Hang in there!”  If you find solace in a particular quote, great; thanks for sharing.  But when you post three or four of these a day, every day, you probably need professional help, not an audience for your angst.  

And why do you constantly change your profile picture?  Are you constantly reinventing yourself – one day you’re your current age, another day you’re a baby, yet another you’re a car, or a kale salad, or a piece of abstract art … I give up. 

Honestly, don’t you have something better to do with your time? 

Now that I’ve made it seem like I’m a heartless monster, there were some things some of you posted that I really enjoyed. 

I liked when you dropped all the pretenses and were yourself.  I liked seeing and sharing the big events in your life – the engagements, the weddings, the new-born babies, the new house, the retirement party – as well as the more thoughtful moments.  I liked learning more about the people who made you who you are, where you came from, and seeing the product of your own hands. 

I liked the photos and personal stories that showed another side of you and your life.

In short, I liked the real you.  But I got tired of the Facebook you.   

I’m still up on Facebook on a regular basis.  I just don’t follow you anymore. 

Sorry. I have better things to do.