It all started with Facebook.
After I signed up, there was no turning back.
The universe cracked open & out flowed a drug called–
I will like you “I will validate you.”
The addiction began.
50 friends. Cool.
100 friends. Wow.
500 friends. Amazing.
I had no idea I was that freaking popular, that freaking interesting.
Conversations like—Will you be my friend? Are you on Facebook? Did you see the grumpy cat, the loudest purring cat, or the fluffiest cat became ordinary conversations with co-workers, friends, acquaintances.
I became fascinated about where people dined for dinner, bought their shoes, how they made Better Than Sex Chocolate Cake, and where they traveled for vacation.
You mean, you spent spring break in Belize sunbathing? You lucky
I could monitor who had new babies, old high school friends, previous boyfriends, co-workers, and read about your perfect kids being accepted into Harvard, Princeton, Yale.
I could even stalk my own boys by instant messaging them to get their asses home to mow the lawn.
They are no longer on Facebook and presently label me –“The Creeper.”
As if Facebook wasn’t enough, I began blogging.
Words, syllables, & stories poured out like, well, have you watched The Exorcist?
Remember that green slime flying from the mouth of Linda Blair?
Um, sort of like that.
When Mr. Liverpool asked how my day was, I ‘d retort, “If you read my blog, you’d know. Haven’t you checked my Facebook page?”
The cheek of Brits nowadays.
Saturday, I’d write my blog post while the bacon fried, the ham sizzled, or I baked gooey chocolate chip cookies.
And I’d typically hear something like this from the back room, “Kim, will you please get in the kitchen to take care of this bacon?” Or “Kim, can’t you hear the fire alarm? The cookies are buuuuurning!”
Yesterday, Mr. Liverpool said in a serious tone, “I need to tell you something important. Now, don’t get mad at me for telling you this.”
Was the dude having an affair? Did I do something bad? Again. Did I crash the computer? Did I remember to pay my TJ Max bill? I simply had to have those black boots!
“You’re addicted.” He finally said.
“I don’t drink that much wine,” I replied. “I’m down to, gosh, a glass a day.”
“No, not the wine, Kim. You’re addicted to Social Media. It’s the first thing you go to in the morning.”
Now, if you know me, you definitely know I don’t take criticism well… but I couldn’t fight this.
It was true. It was positively true.
All I could do was nod knowingly, understandingly, empathetically.
After that deep conversation, I tweeted this story.
——Darling, Reader, are you addicted to your cell phone, internet, Twitter, blogs, Or Facebook?