Ed’s Note: This weekend I looked in my e-mail inbox, and found this: A response from the one person who keeps me in Facebook Friend Purgatory. Figured I’d share.
Browsing through some friends’ Facebook pages a few months ago, I happened upon your letter to me. I know you didn’t name me (a wise decision). But based on the commonalities of that letter and our real life interactions, I deduced that you were writing to me.
And… there is that little thing about me refusing to accept or deny your friend request.
Funny, you wanted me to read the note/letter, but you didn’t send it to me. You put it on Facebook for our mutual friends the world to see. … You still have my e-mail address. You could have used it. But no. You chose the route of passive aggression. You wrote an open Facebook note. You put your business out there self-deprecated the hell out of yourself and poked fun at me and others who leave people in social network limbo. Ingenious. Idiocy.
Well, I’m not using a public forum to respond. But I do have a few answers for you.
You want to know why I have left you in purgatory two years, 145 days, five hours and six minutes (I found the original e-mailed request and added up the time)? I don’t like you. And I know you well enough to know that leaving you in limbo would frustrate you from time to time, similar to the way your presence once annoyed me.
Like you said, it’s karma, baby. Don’t worry, though. It’s not just you.
I currently have 132 people — 131 of them are men — in purgatory for a multitude of reasons. One guy has a tattoo of his own name on his face for a profile picture. Another has permanent gold crowns across his top row of teeth. There are a few old co-workers who don’t necessarily get that I’d like to nudge in front of a moving train instead of conversating with them. There’s a guy whose breath smells like the inside of a Chili Cheese Fritos bag. Then there’s a dude who asked me for my number and has never called, but friended me on Facebook.
Finally, there’s you. What can I say? A lot. You took me to Applebee’s for dessert and paid with a gift certificate you won from a raffle ticket you didn’t buy. I told you I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten all day. I wanted dinner. Not some apple cinnamon delight that you thought you could woo me with. I didn’t care that you were a broke college student. Truism: Not feeding a hungry woman will make her angry and think of strangling you for no reason. A bowl of microwaved Ramen would have worked.
I don’t care what you say, when we were cool you told me a few too many white lies when simple truths would have sufficed. And you thought you knew everything, and probably still do. But most important, you were annoying as hell.
I don’t know if you’re any better now. Honestly, I care for you as much as I currently care for Jeffery Dahmer, Elliott Spitzer and Kwame Kilpatrick combined. Really, I just wanted to reply and explain the the reasons for leaving you in purgatory — the No. 1 of which is because we’re clearly not friends.
That said, I don’t understand why people accept social network “friendships” from people they don’t know or dislike. They share their personal business, feelings and emotions. Then they get mad when their business hits the streets and gets run over like Bambi’s best friend intestines.
Here’s an idea: Only befriend the people you’re actually friends with and/or trust. That’s why I have more people in purgatory than I have accepted as friends. And even then, know that your friends will cross you. When they do, it just might be time to click “Remove from Friends.”
I did that to you on MySpace, remember? Why? Again, I don’t like or trust you. I do, however, like being able to see your profile and commenting on your pictures. Having you in purgatory allows me to do those things. I know. It makes it seem as though I care. And I do. But only enough to where I can talk about my disdain for you when a situation warrants.
I know this seems petty. But hey, that’s life. What are you gonna do? Write me another letter. Probably so. *shrugs*
The Girl Who Still Has You In Facebook Friend Purgatory
P.S. Oh yeah, the one woman in purgatory is my mom. I heard about you not adding yours and I can’t bring myself to do it, either.
Note: This is clearly a spoof. If you want, share this tomfoolery on Facebook.