Feeling Through

I joined Facebook in 2007. I have compiled 247 friends, 92 photos and 59 likes.

I have uploaded five albums (four of which contain one photo, captured in Spain; the fifth is empty).

My information is bare bones – birth date – and my posting minimal.  On this point, the greatest amount of action occurred at the time of the Princess-formerly-known-as-Kate’s nuptials to Prince Will.I.Am. I was overcome. By emotion.

At this point in my life, I am considering taking a step back from the Book-of-Face.

Why? A certain someone known as GL.

Twice now he has found himself the hapless target of a (maybe harmless) post and ferocious, unforgiving, shooting-off-at-the-mouth GF.

The first occurred over the course of an evening and was the result of a snap-happy, check-in Queen with a common name.

The second incident has unfolded before my Wall over the last few days and shows the GL showing off in a series of push-up poses. The bland postee-with-piercings has uploaded 12 now in total.

Harmless, yes, of course.

However, Facebook has the power to destroy relationships. As I’ve long said, knowledge not known is knowledge not known. Had I not known he was happy to push-up all through freaking Mexico, I wouldn’t have known and my last lovely message, would no doubt have been my last.

What was my last message? Well, my second last was lovely and then I looked at the Wall of Facebook and took it straight back. I said damn thou and I retract that and then I shot-off-at-the-mouth, and threw out some inflammatory language, passionate, heated, potentially regrettable and curse-laden.

Now, four hours later, I’m deciding this harmless fun has only blown me up because I saw it and I’m removed. Once upon a time this type of snap-happy, post-Queen would have me none-the-wiser because her snaps woud never surface.

Facebook means our actions are always highly visible, highly memorable and (dependant on friend list)  highly shared.

We’re always accountable, but now even moreso because every punter has a smart phone and a trigger-happy finger.

Me, I’m done for this. The day he returns.

 

 

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