Please Don’t Ask to “Friend Me” On Facebook, If We’re Not Friends

Okay. If you are familiar with my work — you must know that I am a whiny loser when it comes to social media.

The source of my pain comes from within. I lost my grip and slowly slid down the slippery slope of mangled faces that presently don’t represent anything other than a mental disorder.

So, I am now faced with the dissatisfying task of sifting through the rubble in an effort to recover the memories that cling with nostalgic longing.

I also have to apply my non-people skills and abruptly dismiss the loads of “friends” that never fit that description and can never come close to convincing me that they can.

It’s not their fault. I take responsibility for everything. I had the choice to accept or refuse the offer to be a friend.

I temporarily lost my ability to logically endorse what makes sense.

Until now.

Let’s step back for a minute and contemplate what life was like before our means of communication became reliant on symbols and brands that are supposed to represent the trajectory of relationships.

If you’re too young or lazy to remember — I will gladly step in.

Part of the charm of exchanging phone numbers was embedded in the art of writing it down.

Watching it happen or knowing that you were being watched added to the appeal of realizing that this could be someone special.

Or it was a just a contact that could lead you to the person who would play a vital role in your life.

The point is that making the rash decision to connect with a stranger because you happen to be the owner of a page that relies on increasing numbers for its survival — was never part of the plan.

Because how could it be? Only robots thoughtlessly program data and expect it to mean something.

Humans depend on the blood pumping from the heart, as it flows through the arteries and guides the capacity of the brain.

The mechanics of it is brilliant and almost always nurtures the decision making process.

Sometimes we make good, bad or utterly terrible choices. But at least back then — we had the capacity and the will to assess and conquer.

We have presently surrendered that right.

We allow glossy interfaces and scattered buttons to dictate what we can no longer feel, accommodate, or accept.

I was one of you but I am determined to end my pathetic allegiance to empty persuasions.

I am aggressively honing in on disrupting the flow of “friend shopping”.

I quite frankly don’t need anymore “friends”. I can barely keep the ones I’ve got and I sure as hell don’t plan on adding more to the pile.

Unless I’m moved to do so — which is a rarity these days.

I can be friendly. I also don’t mind having a jolly good time at happy hour after a long day of desk duty.

But please don’t ask me to accept your “friend” request days after we’ve been introduced.

We hardly know each other. And what I do know about you may not necessarily bolster my need to want to know you more.

The idea that we have evolved into a species that readily assumes that adding “friends” is akin to loading up your shopping cart to the brim — before hitting the “checkout” feature — is both bothersome and revolting.

If I want to extend our relationship beyond a drunken night at a karaoke machine — I will let you know by politely asking that we exchange numbers or email addresses.

Because I will say no. To your face. And happily watch the shock devour you.

That’s when I will know you are human.

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