Twenty Four Hour Friendship

A few weeks ago, I accepted the friend request from a guy on Facebook.  He and I have a few mutual FB friends.  His name was vaguely familiar, and I was feeling outgoing in a virtual sort of way.

Perhaps my new friend would post something on FB which would trigger enough synapses in my old wrinkled head to help me recall how I actually knew him (assuming I’d even met this guy in the first place).

True boobie devotees will identify this as a likely implant, since the real ones just don't stand up like that. (Image from the author's personal cache of custom inspirational FB posters, created with love and snark, by the author himself)
True boobie devotees will identify this as a likely implant, since the real ones just don’t stand up like that. (Image from the author’s personal cache of custom inspirational FB posters, created with love and snark, by the author himself)

Within only a few minutes, I spotted his first post.  It was a motivational poster with strong religious overtones.  It rang no bells of recognition and no one I knew had commented on it.  Before I could waste too much time wondering, another post popped up from him.  This one was quite ethnic and not funny to me, though I’m sure someone laughed at it.  As I tried to make sense of why someone would post religious cheer-leading, then baby-mama posters within minutes of one another, yet another post popped up from my new friend.

Uh oh.

I had published a new blog post.  As fate would have it, a few people read it and commented, so I was making sure that I read and replied to as many comments as possible.  I also have a job, a wife and a life, so I wasn’t on FB too often.  Every time I was though, there were multiple posts from my mystery friend.

I knew I had to block this guy before his dorm-quality WWJD posters and World Star Hip Hop-style homages to booty overwhelmed my news feed.  I’d have to sift through mountains of this junk to find the kitten photos and empowerment slogans of the rest of my remaining FB friends.

Put this on your Facebook page, and I won't shoot this dog (Quasi-inspirational poster by the author)
Put this on your Facebook page, and I won’t shoot this dog (Quasi-inspirational poster by the author)

Before I blocked him, I decided to tally up the posts for the twenty four hours of our friendship.  The total: Forty-six photo/slogan/booty-liscious posters and eight religioso posters.  None of the posts included photos of the guy, or so much as an original sentence.  Fifty-four  FB poster posts in the span of one day?!  I glanced at his profile page to see what career allows someone the time paste over two of these inane things every single hour of his life.

“Retired”

I won’t be retiring for another 10 years, give or take.  I haven’t given a huge amount of thought as to how I’ll spend my golden years.  I’m thinking of taking up fly fishing, or maybe opening a combination craft brewery/yoga studio so I can touch my toes before my beer belly gets too big.  In the event that I choose to spend my hard earned retirement posting buckets of virtual bumper stickers all over social media sites, I hope one of my actual friends will come over and smother me with a pillow as I sleep.

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8 thoughts on “Twenty Four Hour Friendship

  1. And yet another reason for me not to feel guilty about rarely accepting friend requests except from family members and a few others I know well…

    I hear you about the frequency thing. There are some people who send out several tweets on Twitter every hour. Most are probably using auto-tweet devices, but others aren’t, as evidenced by the content of their tweet. Where do they find the time? There needs to be a balance between TMI and “hey, I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

    1. On some level, I believe these posting fanatics feel as if they are creating something by pointing and clicking on some link. Creative geniuses like me have to pity their foolish notions.

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