Steve Tuttle
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Feb 5, 2009 11:42 AM
I was a late convert to Facebook, the social-networking site that
turned five years old Wednesday. I joined about a year ago at age 47,
swept up in the massive wave of people turning the corner to the back
nine of life, and pitifully trying to do what comes so naturally to our
sons and daughters. My own 16-year-old, Grace, literally cried from
embarrassment when I told her I was signing up, and she begged me
through her tears not to do it. When it was clear that I was serious,
she made me promise never to "friend" her. Since I didn't know what
that meant at the time, I agreed. Last week I redeemed myself in her
eyes, because I signed off of Facebook forever--or at least until
Tuesday.
I had one of those Hallmark movie moments. I was sitting
here at work thinking up my next pithy "status update," which is where
you broadcast to all your online buddies in a few words what you're up
to at that very moment--and finally came to my senses. "What the hell
have I become?" I cried.
So goodbye 157 Facebook friends, 75 of
whom I wouldn't recognize if I saw you on the street. Goodbye super
nifty "Pieces of Flair" application, and the 1,332,359 members of the
"I Don't Care How Comfortable Crocs Are, You Look Like a Dumbass"
Crocs-hater group. Goodbye, William and Mary alums I barely remember
from 25 years ago. Not you, Tom, the other Tom. Hello to actually
working at my job again. Well, a little anyway. I wouldn't have been
able to write this story about quitting Facebook if I didn't quit
Facebook because I wouldn't have had the time.
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