Ever since the Facebook Phenomenon hit us, my husband has been behaving like a man with a mistress, or a cocaine addiction, or both. He gives his computer screen the sort of loving looks I haven't gotten since we took our wedding vows, and throws me the monosyllabic response that he once reserved for my mother.
When I served him an ultimatum—Facebook or me—he answered at his diplomatic best, "Both!" and promptly signed me up for a Facebook account. He figured: It would be time better spent than nagging him.
So instead of playing shrew, I now spend my free time dodging requests from friends I want to forget; ignoring Pirates vs Ninjas invitations; or yawning through photo after tedious photo of a work acquaintance looking like a drunken twat at her 40th birthday celebration.
Truth be told, there is no greater time-trasher than this laughable version of "virtual friendship." My "friends" on Facebook include:
a) People I meet or speak with regularly anyway.
b) People who live too far away to send me anything more exciting than their geographical coordinates every couple of years.
c) People I haven't seen in a million years because that isn't long enough for me to forget them.
d) People that I nurse murderous thoughts about in private.
e) People who probably feel that their lives are only worthy if they post such newsworthy details as "Bought myself a new sofa yesterday".
f) People who collect "friends" on Facebook and are using me to look more popular than they really are.
g) My husband.
Gone are the days when I can grab a coffee and conversation with someone I can reach across and touch; when I can go AWOL for years with the ready excuse, "I just didn't know where to find you"; when I can take the afternoon off to read a book instead of explaining why I haven't posted a Proust-like update for six whole hours!
If Descartes were alive today, he would probably say, "I am on Facebook, therefore I am." So I pull out my laptop and bash out my very first message on Facebook. And that stranger who shares my home and my life looks up from his computer for the first time since last August.
"Darling, you didn't say you were angry with me?"
I glower.
"Check your wall in a minute, love," he says excitedly. "I'm sending you a hug." Ugh.
