Thematic Thursdays: Facebook Effed Your Wife. Sorry.
Wait, what? So you mean if your already disengaged husband clicks “like” on the picture of some chick with a behind that could keep a small country of midgets warm, you wouldn’t like it? Apparently, America is upset at spouses who “poke” long lost ex-lovers in the dark corners of Facebook’s sidebar. Shocking! (insert side eye here)
Last month, I was going through my Google Reader and saw this article, which stated that Facebook is cited in 1 out of 5 divorces. In over half of the cases it’s the primary evidence source. I couldn’t figure out if I was actually supposed to be surprised or upset that with Libya burning down, this was even considered newsworthy.
Before you go thinking I’m okay with cyber-hickeys and extramarital net-nooky, let me clarify. I’m of the firm belief that a healthy couple, who speaks to each other on a regular basis about something besides gymnastics tuition, gas bills, and pony porn, wouldn’t be able to blame Facebook for spousal straying. Meditation and sex several times per week doesn’t hurt either. 
Seriously. Technology didn’t make cheating anymore prevalent than it already was. It made it easier to get caught. Citing Facebook as a cause sounds like blame to me. Sure, that blue and white onscreen crack pipe gives Tyrone the ability to hide behind clever quips and score tail he would have never landed in the club. Nicole is also able to research that “one” ex, who got away without “closure” a lot easier with the great online reuniter. In both of these cases, the parties are searching for something in the ether that isn’t part of their reality.
It takes work to coexist with another person and their bad habits and shedding pubic hair. It requires a certain amount of centering and selflessness, which fragile egos often aren’t capable of, to tolerate the dynamic essence of merging two lives. Teamwork is demanded from people who are only used to reserving that extra spot on the couch for their popcorn. Most importantly, those seeking external validation or someone to “make” them happy are sadly disappointed.
I can concede that Facebook is addictive — sexy even — but there’s nothing online that makes me want to run off and lick another man’s balls. For some it’s different. Facebook is shiny! It’s the land where the streets are paved with ass. They open their fly, scratch down there and think to themselves, “There’s got to be something I’m missing. Something else is out there for my introverted lazy self.”
After all, everybody looks good on Facebook, right? Five hundred dollar photoshoots from top photogs make everyone look skinnier and happier than America’s Next Top Model. Status updates like, “Mmm. Last night was great!” mean everyone is getting laid more than you, and three people posted what they ate for dinner, so now these shmucks are eating better than you, too? Aw, heck naw! It’s just about enough to push any fragile personality into full on sin and debauchery. I feel like loading porn in another tab right now. Where’s my Prozac?
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