Okay. I lied. I really do have a FaceBook account. To save some face (pun somewhat intended), only three people on earth know about it and are friends thereon. They have all been sworn to contractual secrecy on penalty of having to close their FaceBook account and start a MySpace page.
Here are the top 10 reasons why I really am really on FaceBook:
- A girl that I liked asked if I had a FaceBook account hours before she boarded a plane for her home country. I then scrambled to make one when I got home. In spite of that, we never really talked again. FailBook.
- Just in case another girl I like asks if I have a FaceBook account.
- To find out as quickly as possible if the girl has any connection to Twilight, likes cats or belongs to the “I Get Violent Thoughts When I See Someone Litter” group. That way I can terminate the relationship before too much of my stuff ends up in her apartment.
- To keep track of people that actually go out into the Big Room and interact with analog versions of people. This knowledge might come in handy if Amazon ever stops delivering Dinty Moore and Cheetos and I am forced to leave my own little middle-earth.
- Because I’m sadistic and enjoy self-loathing and shame.
- Because I’ve already murdered any hopes of resisting The Collective by having a Google account. Now when the two entities declare war and unleash their alien hordes upon each other, they can fight over me and maybe I’ll get a Spartan Laser Rifle out of the deal.
- I would have been socially underdeveloped if I hadn’t seen that one friend eject four organs after a failed attempt at a keg stand.
- I want to keep watch on old college friends to make sure they’re not posting photographic evidence of anything we did until the statute of limitations has passed.
- I really do want to know which of my family members belongs to the “I Tend to Fart in Public” group as per my previous post concerning FaceBook. That way I can feel superior at the next family picnic while they make me sit at the children’s table just because they don’t trust me with the metal utensils.
- I was voted “Most Likely to… wait, who is this kid again?” in school and FaceBook gives me just enough of a hollow self affirmation to keep me out of therapy.
Maybe some of those reasons were a bit facetious. Numbers 1 and 2 are very real reasons though. Maybe number 8 too.
What are your excuses?