4 Bad First Impresions: Facebook Request Disasters

By Adel

More and more of us old farts are getting into social media these days. I denounced MySpace years ago, until I got bored and opened an account. It wasn't so bad, actually. Then the "war" between MySpace users and Facebook users heated up. I swore that one social media site was more than enough. Consequently, I was wrong and, soon, was assimilated by the Facebook collective.

Exactly like this, but without the constant surveys and fan pages.

Those of us born in the 70's were harder to turn to the dark side. We're naturally suspicious of computer technology (as 1984 and The Terminator taught us to be). Slowly, though, the ice melted and we began to dabble in the Facebook universe. Occasionally, we find old friends. More often than not, we end up "friending" people we speak to on a regular basis. Either way, I've learned that the friend request process is a very delicate one. Both the requester and requestee have to watch their steps. This is especially true if this person is someone you haven't spoken to in a decade. The first thing you type will immediately tell the person on the other side of that DSL line who you are today and what level of crazy you've reached.

It takes talent to type without using your hands.

1. Friend Request: Stalker
"Hey! I haven't seen you in a long time! How are things? Are you still single? Living alone? I heard you're living at the same house we all used to hang out in. That's two miles on the left from the Sunoco, right? Do you have an alarm system? See you soon!"

What this says about the person
Having given up his passive creepy staring at people from across the room, he's graduated to proactively peeping from the bushes with a pair of high powered binoculars. This just may be the time to up his game and start jimmying his long lost friend's back window with a crowbar and seeing for himself if the whole "Squeal like a pig" thing is true.

How funny running into you here! At your house. In your bathroom...

The Proper Response:
Erase your hard drive, move to Idaho, and live under the assumed name of Stanley Finklebottom. You might want to get in gear before he's outside your front door with a can of Cool Whip and Vaseline.

This wouldn't be a bad idea, either.

2. Friend Request Response: Suicidal
"Hey, thanks for the friend request. How are things with you? Things suck here. I've been married and divorced twice, out of work, and they're going to foreclose on my house pretty soon. To top it all off, my feet smell like cheese. The doctors don't know why. I use half a bottle of Goldbond in each shoe, but it doesn't help. I'm so happy you friended me. Just the other night I was sitting at my computer cleaning my loaded gun thinking, 'What is there left? Would anyone notice if I just painted the wall with my brains?" Then, BAM! I get your friend request! That is just awesome!"

Does this mean Barney Fife was trying to kill himself the whole time?

What this says about the person
You were just surfing the net at 2 in the morning, because you heard you should never go to bed drunk enough to choke on your own vomit. Hendrix died that way. In an effort to sober up you wandered around Facebook and found this guy you haven't seen since freshman year in college. What made him different than the six thousand other friends you have on Facebook and never actually speak to? Well, it seems that you've accidentally became this guy's only reason for living. You were just hoping to sober up and not blow chunks all over your keyboard. Your plan went awry. Enjoy getting dozens of daily wall messages from Suicidal Sammy and living in constant fear that if you neglect to respond to one he may cancel his account with a syringe full of Clorox.

Sucker

The Proper Response
Click the "like" button for every one of his posts like you've never clicked before. You better not forget to accept his gifts on Farmtown. Not joining his Facebook Mafia may end up in the police finding a week old decomposing corpse sitting at the computer, a mouse in one hand and gun shot residue on the other.

Why haven't you accepted my Farmtown cow yet?

WHY HAVEN'T YOU ACCEPTED MY FARMTOWN COW YET!!

3. Type- Friend Request: Obsessive breeder
"Wow, it's you! I haven't seen you in forever! I just had to friend you. Do you still see the old gang? I don't much, these days. My family keep me busy! We have four children with number five on the way! They are my life! I just don't have time to keep track of our old friends. It's just go go go with the kids. Timmy has soccer practice, Sally is our cheerleader, Ralph has hockey, and Billy always has some sort of performance. I don't know how I lived without them! Do you have kids? Will you? When? I hope it's soon so you'll be able to understand the joy and live a life of purpose and meaning! Keep in touch!"

I can't believe this bitch found me.

What this says about the person
Her life completely revolves around her kids. She was living a shallow, meaningless existence until 8 pound children started shooting out her vagina. Now, it's no crime to love your children but, when it becomes a religion on par with Scientology, there's a problem. She's trying to make up for getting knocked up in junior year by immersing herself and living vicariously through her unruly, belligerent brats. Following this path could potentially lead to another Dana Plato or Michael Jackson. Yes, they may be successful for a time, but it ends in tragedy. Compared to this pompous baby factory, being raised by the totally heterosexual guys from My Two Dads would yield better results.

That's right, Mister Sweater Vest and Mister 80's Beard.
(Totally heterosexual)

If that wasn't bad enough, there's the end of message bitch slap. You cannot possibly know what fulfillment is, unless you have a few booger eaters. What's that? You don't have kids? Why not? Don't you feel useless? Shouldn't you throw yourself in front of a truck, then?

We do, so appreciate the subtle kick in the teeth.

The Proper Response
Tactfully remind her that you are completely aware that the father of her first kid was that functionally retarded guy from wood shop. Also, make sure to tell her that you can't wait to get together for a drink one night. Oh, wait, she has a litter of children. The closest she'll get to setting foot outside her house for a night on the town will be carting her brats to Chuck E Cheese's where their constant screaming will blend into the screaming of dozens of other whiny pizza eating bastards.

Pictured: fulfillment.

4. Type- Friend Request: Hopeless loser still clinging to high school
"Well look who it is. Mr. 'I'm too big to come to homecoming!" Just kidding. Man, you should come back! It's still crazy here. Nothing has changed. The old hangout is still nuts. Yea, I chill there most nights with the seniors. It's great. Just like old times! I'm still working at that 7-Eleven across the street. I'm so in with my buds, because I'll slip them cigarettes on the DL. Remember when we all hung out after that homecoming game in '94 when we all were like, whoa, and we totally stole that six pack of Meister Brau from Nate's dad? Shit, it doesn't get any better than that! Dude, I heard Nate got like a job being a doctor or something. Can you imagine? All that school stuff and no time to party? I hate it when guys lose their perspective like that. Gotta keep it real! You totally should visit! It'll be like old times. I'm pretty much free all week. Except for Saturdays. I have to take my mom to her electrolysis appointments then. Peace, bro! Seriously, dude, you can reach me anytime. I'm home right now if you want to call."

Before we get into the finer details, the office thought that it would be a good to present you with a simple, yet important mathematical equation. See if you can follow this.

This + That= Keep'in it real!

This + That= Complete sellout.

Or success, depending on you point of view.

What this says about the person
Saying this tosser peaked in high school is an understatement. There have been plenty of people who have done the same that, at least, managed to have families or hold down a job that doesn't require pumping gas or making change for a twenty. It's as if a space-time vortex opened over this guy and he is forever stuck in 1994. Only, he has a lot less hair and a lot more gut today. His class has moved on; even that functionally retarded guy that was in wood shop had a kid and works part time sweeping hair at Cost Cutters. Another issue is that a thirty- something guy probably shouldn't be hanging around 17 and 18 year old high school students. That's how one ends up running into that pesky Megan's Law.

Better study this map. It may be your only chance.

The Proper Response
Smile and nod. Who are you to judge, right? Sure, you work 50 hours a week, have a mortgage, and have friends over 18. Hell, you're even married to a real life woman. Maybe you aren't "keeping it real" like that poor Nate bastard that has been stricken with an MD and financial success. The sudden impact of your high school buddy's crash into the brick wall of progress surely left him somewhat brain damaged.

The truly tragic thing from the accident was that he is permanently stuck on 1994 colloquialisms, fashion, motivation, and events.

"Dude, what's the haps with the Lewinsky trial? Ehh, ehhh. Any more official late night presidential packages that need to be handled?"

*Sigh*

Throw the guy a bone and accept his friend request. Just make sure he doesn't get a hold of your email address or telephone number. You may want to keep your visits home under wraps, too. Be forewarned, sometimes this type of Facebook illness can be communicable. If you happen to run into him when you are in the area visiting your family, don't panic. Although, socializing with him for more than twenty minutes is a slippery slope. It starts out as a short catching up, but can easily turn to you hanging out at the gas station drawing penises on the Cosmopolitan magazines. Don't get too deep into this tar pit. Struggling only makes you sink faster.
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When not writing for The Fuse Was Too Cold, Adel enjoys slaving over research day in, day out to support her book. A book few will read. A book that may never be taken out of its original plastic.

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