Some time ago, I got an account on something called Facebook, which my younger younger brother assured me was perhaps the coolest thing in the history of cool and would never go away no matter what. (I believe it took that title from Friendster, which was the fourth largest standing army on Earth for ninety minutes, and also a huge nookie farm.) I mostly did it to be polite to him, played with it for fifteen minutes, had the same amount of fun and acquired the same facial expression as my father when he tries to play Halo 2, and forgot about Facebook.
Until about three weeks ago.
That is roughly when Facebook hit critical mass. I know this because suddenly I am awash in friends on an account I had forgotten I had on a website I had forgotten existed. I’m not ungrateful, understand — turns out I have seventeen friends, a higher number than I might have guessed if you asked me — but it’s a very odd feeling, having people that I did not anticipate would be either a) on Facebook or b) looking for me befriend me. I don’t know how to search for people on Facebook, so it’s a fairly random sampling, plus I don’t know about Facebook protocols, plus, as with all things Internet, there is a mild level of desire to disguise use of the thing. I feel like a resident of a small town in Nebraska who finally screws up the courage to drive an hour to the county gay bar and slink in and upon doing so is welcomed warmly by his neighbor, his barber, the mayor, two fellow Little League coaches and his closest friend from fourth grade: Fancy running into you here! I’m delighted to see you! Uh…now what do we do?