jeux d'enfants

Today I made two very frustrating gaffs in my attempts to be a good sport in the Game of Social Networking. One involved me making a fool of myself. The other involved me making a fool of myself, and losing a friend in the process.

First booboo: I found out via various stalking methods (you know, the kind where you see someone you know in your friend's "Friends" section on Facebook, and so you click, and that clicking leads to more people you know, until eventually you're looking the blog of someone you know, but haven't had the gumption to add them as a friend. That kind) that someone I knew from high school was engaged to someone else I knew from high school. I wanted to congratulate her, because I just think its cool that her and him hooked up. I mean, in my mind it made sense. So I added her as a friend, and said something to the effect of, "I'm adding you as a friend because I want to congratulate you", as if that was the sole reason why I needed her friendship, so that I could show her how happy I am for her. Because that matters to her. I then went on to remark that the two of them "make sense," whatever that means. After I sent it, it took five minutes (read: far too long) before I realized what I said was COMPLETELY ridiculous. So, I waited. I waited for her to (hopefully) add me as a friend.

And she did. So, I tried to make amends. I apologized for sounding like an idiot, and all felt right. Until I posted it on her wall. And then read it back. Here's how it read in my head: "Dear Self: You have succeeded in twice making a fool of yourself with this person. Stop now, or risk her unfriending you." Red face. Foot in mouth. Stomach churning with anxiety.

Now, it must be noted that I don't have a "Friend Complex." (This is important for both this story, and the one to come.) I don't have any need to accumulate 5,000 friends (which is the max, I believe), or even 300 friends. I'm happily content with my 222 (previously 223 as of 8 pm) friends. I rarely befriend folks who I don't know. So there.

Okay, so on to the next:

I have a certain friend who I've known for years. We went to school together, church together, camped together, talked together, played too many video games together, and saw a lot of movies together. We were good friends. As we've grown older, we've grown apart, naturally, but we managed to keep in touch. He married a fine gal from Colorado, and then moved to Provo. He even starred in my first film project. Anyway, we had some good times.

So, today, he posts something on Facebook about how he's noticed that those he knows who complain about the film Twilight seem to be --and continue to remain-- single. Like any upstanding Twilight critic/single man, I took slight offense to this, because it seems to be insinuating that single people "just don't get it", and that somehow, being married gives you keen insight into the love-starved brilliant mind of Stephenie Meyer. (Side note: I get really fed up with folks who use their marital status as, well, a status symbol, positioning themselves above their single friends, as if to say "Well, what's wrong with you?". It gets old.)

Anyway, back to the status. So, I called him out on it. I mentioned that I've seen Twilight 3 times, and that it's just a terrible movie. I called his comment "douchy", because it kinda was. This kid is known for his sick sense of humor, but this rubbed me the wrong way. So I told him about it. I figured he could take it, considering he dishes it out himself quite frequently. I was at relative peace with this, until I got a notification that he had commented on my comment. I clicked it, and got a surprise: He was no longer my friend. I couldn't read his comment. He not only replied to what I said, but in his anger, he wasn't even going to let me read it!

I was livid. I didn't get it. I vented. I talked it out with someone over Google Chat. It felt good. During this chat, I was peeking around, wondering if his wife would soon follow suit, and cancel our digital friendship as well. It was then that I saw ANOTHER thing that took me aback: her relationship status no longer listed my friend. He was gone. I searched his name, and nothing came.

I asked my Google Chat friend to search his name, to see if he blocked me. Sure enough, he had. He had blocked me. My friend of over 10 years blocked me because I didn't like Twilight. Or, at least that's what I have to assume.

Looking back, I have to wonder if I'd somehow deserved this. Him and I did have our differences of opinion, and I was probably more vocal about it than anything. This could have led him to become increasingly annoyed with me, possibly hiding me from his feed, or whatever. Maybe I earned this final goodbye by continuing to annoy him.

Whatever it was, it still feels petty. It still feels like he's in the wrong. Who unfriends someone, and then blocks them forever? Who is that ridiculous? He is, I suppose.

I emailed him, asking what I did. I have to know. I have to understand how I offended him. It's bothering me. I can't stop thinking about it. I mean really! Who could not like me? (the answer is plenty of people, as I'm beginning to learn)

*Sigh*

Oh well, right? Two infractions of social networking etiquette. They're not uncommon. One hasn't resolved itself (she hasn't responded to my wall post), and the other still lingers, but I'm beginning smell the heavy scent the finality. I doubt he'll email me back. I don't think he cares to know me anymore if he's that serious about blocking me. Makes me sad.

So, in an effort to better myself, I have to look back and wonder: what can I learn from this? Well, for starters, I need to keep my trap shut. Sarcasm doesn't register in black and white. Also, just avoid being a dill-weed on the Internet. Don't hide behind miles of distance between you and your subject; imagine they're in the same room as you, and only say things you'd say to their face. I think that's a good rule of thumb, don't you?