Dear Facebook

Darling,

I really do love you. Let that be known.

But...(and there is a but) I feel that our relationship has taken an unhealthy turn, and with that, I believe that we truly ought to go our separate ways.

I feel I have given up so much to dedicate myself to you, to be committed. After long months of thoughtful consideration, I finally broke it off with Myspace. It's true I messed around with Twitter for a short time, but honey, it was nothing serious and it's all over now. You were my beacon of light, and darling, now my light is dim and dull.

You allow for weird men to "poke" me incessantly and won't help me to figure out how to remove them. You quiz all my friends and tell me all the mundane details, but you don't really want to know ME. You don't really understand ME. What is my hippy name? What is my My Little Pony Character Name? What Country should I live in? I don't know how you can say you love me when all you really know is my middle name and my fake political views and yet you don't know what Character from Star Wars I am most like!

You know, I never bring it up because I don't want to come across as nagging or unsatisfied, but I feel the coldness of your love when I see the gifts of avatar snowballs or gold crowns or funny frogs that other girls seem to get from you and yet my gift inbox seems quite empty. Why must you tease me so?

All these things I could live with. The annoying threads, the vomiting of useless info into my regular email, the incredibly fucking ridiculous way you tell me who you think I may know or who you think I should be friends with (I'm an EMPOWERED woman sir!) but I cannot (and because I am DRAMATIC I shall repeat - I CANNOT GO ON!) with your new look.

You may call me shallow, but I call myself a woman of integrity. I am more interested in connection and connectivity and community and context and substance than your silly little ad scheme propaganda design. Get over yourself darling, I will never ever ever eat at Papa Johns no matter how many times you ask me to be a fucking fan (how many times do I have to tell you I am vegan before it sets down in your thick skull?) I will never ever ever go on a Celebrity Diet of Sucking D with Pills, I will never ever ever go to a hair salon in Beverly Hills, and I don't even know who the fuck Keith Urban is so stop asking me to check out his god damn concert. IT MAKES ME HATE YOU BECAUSE I HATE YOUR TASTE IN MUSIC !!!!

Sorry dear, just had to let that last one out.

I wish you well. Please don't drunk dial me anymore.
Or drunk text.
Or drunk email.
Or drunk message.

In fact, maybe you should stop drinking. There is a good program I thought I heard about. Maybe you should check your advertise sidebar.

xoxoxoxo
me