Really, I will. I will miss Facebook for lots of reasons: no more sending or receiving birthday wishes; no more saying ‘Congrats’ or posting heart and thumbs up symbols. No more laughing until I pee myself at posted videos, like the one with two drunk grandmothers on a floating raft unable to get out of it, despite comical efforts of their grandchildren to help. They were all laughing so hard they could barely stand up themselves.
Or the one with three bear cubs falling and rolling in and out of a swinging hammock, which, I don’t know, just struck me as hilarious. It feels good to have long belly laughs, doesn’t it?
Then there’s the news about births, deaths, marriages and graduations. (Haven’t seen any “Yay! I’m divorced!” posts but I’m sure they’re out there!) No more beloved videos of friends’ grandchildren giggling in a bath full of bubbles or scrunched up smiles. And okay, granted, some wasted time scrolling and scrolling for nothing. And yes, there were the frantic messages of “don’t click on a link I sent in messenger, I’ve been hacked.”
And what made me sever my more-than-a-decade-long relationship? It started with the first call from a friend, asking if I had won a writing award. “Regretfully, no,” I said. “Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”
“Well”, she said, “someone claiming to be you is having a conversation about it on Messenger with Gontran. Right now. He thinks he’s talking to you and you’ve just sent him a link to a website about the award details.”
“No,” I panic. “It’s definitely not me.” I hop on my account, go to Messenger and see the actual conversation between some stranger and my friend Gontran. I frantically search on how to disconnect, can’t find anything and so just delete the conversation comment by comment. Whew! Weird.
I stupidly passed it off as a one-off thing.
Two days later, a call from another friend. “Are you on Messenger with Kathy talking about disability credits?” Mary asks.
E-e-e-k, again! No!
“Well, she thinks she’s having a conversation with you and you sent her a link to apply for a disability credit. You’re talking about Doug (my husband) and Marc (her husband) so it really sounds like you.”
Okay. Now I’m really scared and freaking out. “Tell her to get off,” I say and hang up. I search frantically on how to disconnect from Messenger completely…can’t find anything…and after a minute decide not to waste any time. I find the option to delete my whole Facebook account. Click!
Of course, I get a message asking if I really want to do that. “Yes, &^#$!*, delete it!”
Poof! Gone! Except, I have until January 8, 2021 to change my mind. If I don’t reactivate it before then, “you won’t be able to access the account or any of the content you added,” Facebook reports.
I heave a sigh of relief, relax, and compose a mass email to as many friends as I can, telling them what has happened.
I think about Facebook. Do I really want to re-engage with it? Hm…all those connections…people I stay in touch with who I haven’t seen in years but have a comradely relationship with. It is nice to keep up on what’s happening in their lives.
I decide to contact Facebook to tell them what happened. However, it seems you need a Facebook account to contact Facebook, and I now don’t have one. After 20 minutes of trying to find a way, I give up.
A few days later, one of friends who got my email with the Facebook saga, calls me. “Did you just send me a Facebook friend request?”
Facebook, I’m disappointed. But our relationship is not worth it.
You’re dead to me now. May my account rest in peace.