Well, I’ve done it. With much fear, trembling, and wary poking at buttons, I’ve reactivated my Facebook account.
What do you mean it doesn’t bite?
OK, so it never actually bit me. But back when I first made the account, before I could so much as write my “about me” section, I got sent a nude photo from a complete stranger who wanted to ‘friend’ me. (Oh, so that’s what they call it these days?)
Apparently that’s what I get for being a girl on the internet. Go stew in your envy, gentlemen. :P
And then other people started tagging photos to my account, which I hadn’t known they could do until suddenly my online privacy no longer existed. Putting my name and face together online was something I was actively avoiding at the time, especially since I was also on a dating site. That ended about as well as you’d expect – which is to say, some guy started stalking me around town and then sending me his observations.
That’s the part where I killed my Facebook account (or so I thought), but apparently FB accounts, like weeds and tardigrades, are immortal. Or mine was malfunctioning. Or I screwed up. Or all of the above.
And so, years later, I am back, hoping to use that wailing, troublemaking brat that clings to my ankles and never lets go... I mean, Facebook... to connect with more of my readers. You can find me here, quietly mulling over ways to meet more people without turning them into depraved stalkers.
Wish me luck!