Dearest Facebook -
It’s me, not you. On second thought, it really is you. After a great deal of soul-searching, I’m afraid I need to end my relationship with you.
At first, being with you was fun. It was like two old friends reminiscing about the good ‘ol days. You were so simple–uncomplicated. You didn’t ask for much in return; just a few pages of terms which I gladly agreed to because I loved you.
As our relationship evolved over the past few years it has become more of a burden for me. You’re in the news all the time. Do you know what it’s like to have your significant other splashed across all the major newspapers in the country? It’s embarrassing to say the least.
You also kept changing the way you wore your clothes, hair, and I think you began to speak Yiddish at some point to me, which I had to slap you in the face for because you seemed to forget that I don’t speak Yiddish.
Sometimes you weren’t available for me and told me you were sorry, but that something went wrong and you were unavailable. What the hell was that supposed to mean? You just left me hanging on the other end like a spider hangs from its web.
You weave a very tangled web, my devious Facebook.
I kept overlooking the way you changed your looks because I loved you no matter what you looked like. I mean, deep inside, you were still my adoring little Facebook who shared all sorts of things with me.
They always say it’s on the inside of a person that counts. I believe in this, and that is why I’m leaving you.
You’ve changed, darling.
You went into a tantrum several times over the past few years because of all the headlines you were making. You threw at me thirty-six pages of terms and conditions by which I had to agree to.
Really? Is thirty-six pages really necessary, Facebook? It’s worse than our pre-nup for God’s sake.
Then–and I’ll never forget this–you started bringing up the past. You mentioned my old posts before my newer ones. I felt sad and confused. Do you remember what our marriage counselor said? She said to never bring up the past, but you went ahead and did it anyway.
I know that you know me like the back of your last line of code, but you really went overboard when you started hinting at all the companies, stores, magazines, and software programs I would like. Your hints kept creeping up, and although I tried to make the best of the situation, I finally came to the conclusion that you are now just a novelty for me.
I’m sorry, Facebook. It’s the end of the line and I’m deleting my account and archiving all of my messages, posts, videos and photos. They are mine–all mine, and not for you to ponder over and share with others’.
Yes. I knew you were sharing my information and I agreed to it, but I’m tired of you using me the way you have been. I was just another byte for you to nibble on, wasn’t I?
I have a new man in my life. His name is Twitter and we get along famously. He’s uncomplicated, doesn’t change his appearance every other week because he likes the way he is. He’s easy to get along with and he’s far more intellectual than you are. He gives me what I want as well as what I need without any hinting whatsoever.
The only downside about him is that I have to speak very quickly–in 140 characters or less–or he cuts me off.
Rude, I know.