My Facebook experience

A MISANTHROPIC MUSE ON THE DANGERS OF SELF OBSESSION
(apologies in advance for any offence)

While drunk I appear to have backed myself into a Facebook corner from which I cannot emerge without looking like a tit... this is good. Now that I know I can no longer post and the fact that I've stated my position, while secretly having a dig at anyone who recognises themselves as perpetrators of pish, I feel quite liberated.
This got me thinking: fb is basically a drug, a social drug, and I was a classic case of addiction.
It started innocently enough; a mate got me started on it and I was bored with nothing to do at night (working in Arran). Classic. 

At first it was just looking, observing, being nosey. This progressed to making 'witty' comments on peoples posts or photos then actually posting myself. It took a me while to find my feet but, by trial and error, early mistakes were ironed out; typing in text speak or continuous unironic slang makes you look like a moron, ditto acronyms like 'lol' or 'lmfao'. Please die you cunts. (pdyc?). Ironically, I'd always considered that commenting while under the influence should be avoided as it inevitably leads to sheepish deletion of cringeworthy rubbish which the night before seemed like the pinnacle of cutting edge comedy.

Early mistakes aside, I soon got the hang of it and I was off, and... it was great! It was new and fun and exciting. The wee buzz I got when I saw red in my notifications bar, the satisfaction of getting 'likes' or positive feedback on posts which appeals to the latent narcissism in all off us.. Then there was the link to YouTube, excellent. The perfect way to demonstrate my eclectic and avant-garde musical tastes to a group of people I never spoke to at school. ''you cultural philistines!" What a cock. It took me a lot of posts to get that self obsessed nonsense out my system.

Anyway, before I knew it, I was hooked. Every spare minute was spent checking my smart phone for updates, even minutes where I was getting paid to be doing something else. 

There wasn't one epiphanic moment when I realised it was a stinking pile of cyber dung, more a creeping resentment as my tolerance threshold of inconsequential rubbish was laid under siege. 

Back to the drug analogy, by now, of course, it was too late, I couldn't chuck it. This caused self loathing as I wasn't in control. I would get an anxious feeling if I got a friend request "oh no, who the fuck's this now" as I prepared to click on it. I didn't want to know anymore of these cunts. And so it continued, a downward spiral of despair and resentment: accepting people you wouldn't go for a pint with as 'friends' in case of that awkward post blank moment when you bump into them; suspecting that most of the people on there were only presenting a cached snapshot of their lifes, edited to how they'd like to be perceived; unjust indignation when nobody 'likes' one of your well constructed posts; niggling guilt if you don't wish someone 'happy birthday'; self loathing as you relent and send them an insincere message of congratulations... its relentless: dinner,getting up, going to work, at the gym, going to bed, watching telly... FUCK. OFF. I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR THIS SHITE! how do you find time to do all this crap if you're constantly boring people with updates on it?

I'm talking in the main about 'friends' not friends.

Why is it so hard to break the habit?

It plays on peoples inherent curiosity and blatant nosiness and also the fear of being 'out of the loop' or missing out on something.

I came off it gradually, staying away for a few days at first then checking in to satisfy myself that absolutely nothing of any interest whatsoever had taken place. It works. 

I need to stray slightly here... PICTURES OF OTHER PEOPLES KIDS....

We all do it, I'm as guilty as anyone in the past. We all love our children and are righteously proud of their achievements and their general cuteness. I'm going to be brutally honest here: I have NEVER EVER looked at anyone's albums on Facebook in order to see pictures of their little angels (sorry). I want to see pictures of the person with whom I am 'friends' I want to see how well they've aged since school, if I'm in the pictures even better. I want to see pictures of parties and nights out. I have friends on there who have maybe one profile pic of themselves and album upon album of pictures of their kids. Why? It's not the kids Facebook page. I know how I feel on this and if most people are honest they're probably every bit as uninterested as me. Yet I've posted pictures of my cherubs on there! At the start I wasn't going to but everyone else was doing it (drugs again?). Before I knew it, I was buying into the nonsense, painting a picture of my wonderful life. 

Again, I resented this as I didnt really want to be that person.

Looking at it honestly and objectively, it's a fucking vanity project, an exercise in self obsession all neatly collated into little albums 'Paris 09', 'Dubai 2011' (hark at you!), 'assorted shots of me lying by various pools in a bikini 04 to present'. That last one was made up but it would save folk a lot of time and effort...

And all the time, on top of all this, is the nagging knowledge that you are WILLINGLY giving up masses of private info about yourself, your interests, where you've been, where you're going etc, stored forever, for the benefit of agencies who need no invitation to snoop into every aspect of our lives..

If a person with a clip board stopped you in the street and asked you about anything personal you'd rightly tell them to sling their hook.. what's the difference?

It wasn't/isn't all bad: the ability to reach lots of people for event invites or fundraising is a great thing (my account remains open for this reason alone) and some of the threads were interesting. Personal favorites of mine were the league of absolute cunts and the death of Jim'll Savile but the bad far outweigh the good.

If I can just remember what I used to do with my time before fb and fill the hours constructively, my rehabilitation will be complete.

(...Twitter? Haha)

How many other people are caught in this self destructive cycle of keyboard abuse?

My name is Bingo McGarbage and I am a recovering Facebook addict.

(and full time, professional torn faced cunt)..

Please don't *like this, it'll drive me over the edge.

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