I have the most social media regret when it comes to Facebook. During my initial run from 2006 to 2018 I acted the fool, crafting a digital persona who was equal parts asshole and Cassanova. It was a gross dark age for me in virtual reality, eclipsing even the shenanigans I got up to back in the dirty old days of dial-up chat rooms.
I tend to the incorrigible when it comes to digital communication. I’m one of those who has a maddeningly difficult time empathizing with the human beings behind the avatars. It’s so bad that I’ve convinced myself that it’s the nature of these systems, that even partial anonymity or the simple distance implied means it’s acceptable to throw all decency and morality out the window when posting and direct messaging. I still carry remnants of those beliefs to this day and often catch myself slipping into “total asshole mode” when messaging and leaving comments.
I’m not proud of it. As I said at the start, this is all a crumpled pile of regret.
I quit Facebook at the then-cap of 5,000 Friends. I telegraphed my leaving with several lengthy posts that detailed how I’d felt that the network was no longer any good for my mental health. It wasn’t going to be a “social media holiday”: I was leaving forever.
Those posts were the last thing I wrote on the site, and I left them up for three months prior to closing the account. I wrote my full contact details into the messages. To this day, out of the supposed 5,000 connections, a grand total of three have contacted me, and only one remains my actual friend to this day. But, given how acidic and confrontational I was with the content I produced there, I’m not shocked.
I have an account now, but it’s just for Marketplace deals. Don’t follow it.
2006.10.18 – 2025.02.17