I know what you’re doing. Even if I haven’t actually talked to you in a decade, I know the details of your life, because you let me know on Facebook. I see you, in your relationships, going on your trips, having, unbelievably, your weddings, and even reproducing.
Once, long ago, people relied on gossip as the means of discovering the life events of people they didn’t know very closely. The thing about gossip, though, is that it’s almost certainly only worth sharing when it’s negative, or at the very least, naughty. With Facebook, I’m forced to hear about all of the positive developments in people’s lives, the stuff they actually want to share, and it’s starting to depress me.
Until recently, Facebook was like a hyper-gossip, and actually quite useful. I would log in, creep on some of the attractive ladies, and feel comfort in the fact that soon enough I would see their relationship status switch to single. Now, with the onset of adulthood, I find that I’m increasingly being confronted with much more horrifying, much more positive life changes, the kind that make it increasingly obvious that I’m losing.
It’s time to consider just what the fuck it is that you people are doing before you get a little too far ahead of me. Your information was useful when it had the potential to help me get laid. Seeing people have children, seriously, read that word again, children, is not only something that doesn’t help me get laid, and is not even just something that makes me less likely to get laid, it’s actually something that makes me not want to get laid. Children. You’re reproducing. What in the ever loving fuck are you doing?
Alright, look, I can live with you having kids if I have to. Since you’re bragging about it, I assume it’s something you actually want to be doing, and as such I can be made moderately jealous of, but it’s sure as fuck not what I want to be doing. Marriage too, might be nice, but I’m in no hurry. The things that really bother me are the trips, the cars, the houses, the hot girlfriends, and the general happiness which your photos, status updates, and mass-mailed messages convey. It’s all making me look bad, and it’s all making me feel bad.
All of this signals the utter meaninglessness, time wasting nature of my life. If you wouldn’t mind being just a little more considerate, try balancing all of the positive news with equal portions of bad. Bought a house? Great, now post your utility bills. Went on a trip? Now write a note explaining in detail the gruesome food poisoning you experienced, and throw in a mention of the turbulence you encountered on the flight back.
If your life really is the pristine magnificence you have so far represented it as, and you’re considering bragging about it yet again, take a moment to reflect on how much better you are than me already, and spare me the embarrassment of being faced with that fact yet again.