You might know this person. The bigger question is…are you this person? Well, of course not! Couldn’t be!
This should be an interesting experiment. I am very selective about the people I “friend” on Facebook. They have to be loved ones, work colleagues, family, or really hot guys. I spend a lot of time corresponding with these people, “liking” their status updates, typing a few sentences about how adorable their children and pets are, even sending Happy Birthday greetings to some of them; generally the muscle guys whom I’ve never met and who often don’t even bother to thank me for my best wishes. It’s an exhausting exercise in generosity and good will, when my only real motivation is to get people to “like” what I do and tell me how sexy my new profile pic is, and to shower me with compliments when I’m feeling blue or neglected or particularly needy. Does anyone actually believe I care about their very average children or generic dogs? I have a life, thank you very much. I also have no straight friends on Facebook because I am a firm believer in diversity, and I feel the straight community is not diverse enough, especially as they tend to ignore my racy photos and catty memes. When I threaten to leave Facebook, which I do about once a month, some people don’t even bother to write comments begging me to stay and offering me words of hope and comfort and reminding me that I am loved. It’s disheartening to find so many self-involved people taking advantage of Social Media.
To make sure my tireless Facebook efforts are not unappreciated and one-sided, I’m going to be paying really close attention to who responds to this post, and who ignores me in order to use the site for narcissistic purposes, like posting anniversary pictures (save that for Instagram). If you are unattractive and in no position to further my career, please stop reading this: I only accepted your friend-request because I need to hit that 5,000-friend-limit mark. Once I do, you’ll be the first to go when I start an intimate thread about needing to cut off dear friends, and then start posting about how difficult it is to choose who gets the ax. Those posts are a great way to know who cares about me, because tons of strangers will write desperate pleas begging me to keep them as a friend, telling me that they “like” everything I post, and reminding me how smart and witty my words are and how they share them with others. It’s extremely touching and always reminds me of how truly blessed I am. Even better, after I do hit the 5,000 mark I will switch over my personal page and make it a public page. I won’t have 5,000 friends; I’ll have 5,000 fans!
If you are truly enamored of me (may I remind you that at least seven porn stars, some with multiple accounts, are friends of mine, along with Lance Bass’s husband and that guy who dates Anderson Cooper). I need you to scroll down and write one word about how wonderful I am. Just one word, so make it good. Some suggestions are “Sexy,” “Stud,” Dilf,” “Humble,” and “#hunglikeahorse.” If you do not comply with this request within 24 hours I will know that you are a phony and a flake. A person so passive-aggressive you will write sweet things to me one day and ignore me the next. I can’t have vain, self-involved people in my life, even though I do love you. It’s my own fault for expecting more from others than I give myself.
If you do not follow these simple instructions, I will delete you and encourage others to do the same. I will also report your profiles for excessive nudity. And please don’t write me two days from now saying that you forgot to check Facebook, but that you think I’m a really great guy. (“Really Great Guy” is not one word!) If you cared about me, you’d check my wall every day, no matter where you are or what you are doing or who died. Those of you who do not respond are no better than the people who don’t share posts that tell you to share to show you care. If you think cancer is bad, share! If you’re against homelessness, share! If you think cats are cute, share! Every idiot knows that if you don’t share each and every one of those posts that you are in favor of disease. Spiritual people like me repost to prove we are not apathetic. The same goes for the people who don’t change their profile pictures to a ribbon whenever there’s a day that calls for a ribbon, which is pretty much every other day. Sharing posts about sharing posts and displaying ribbons is how we cure cancer and homelessness and ugly cats. I want to start a revolution, and turning my profile pic into a rainbow flag is testament to my determination. #rainbowprofilepicsmatter.
I am not afraid to use Facebook for political reasons, posing half-naked with a bunch of other half-naked guys who look exactly the same except for the placement of our tattoos. If you look past our bulging biceps and skimpy Speedos and Photoshopped abs you will notice that we are at a benefit for something or the other. If you didn’t read the part about the charity, or my Kickstarter campaign (click “here” for details), it’s because you’re only obsessed with our bodies and need to grow up and stop being obsessed with sex. If I am promoting illiteracy around the world, no amount of selfies are selfish. We are spreading the word, irregardless of your naïve beliefs.
So what will it be, people? Are you going to prove to me that you care or are you going to disappoint me, like so many in the past? If you do respond, and your word impresses me, I might even go out of my way and “like” the comment. I will not, however, write on your page because that would feed into your incessant desire to be loved and to make this post all about your needs. It could also result in your having more “likes” than I do. If I don’t get at least 1,000 responses, I will no doubt go into another fit of depression and post TBT photos from ten years ago, in order that you will post notes about how much better I look with age. Those comments always cheer me up. And remember, share this post so wonderful things happen to you within the next few days. Don’t share, and karma will bring about your immediate, grisly demise. Hugs!
Originally posted at Huffington Post.
Photo courtesy of the author. May or may not be photoshop assisted.