Why I Stopped Following You Or Defriended You On A Popular Social Network

I'm passive aggressively letting you know that I'm not concerned with your life's mundane activities anymore. I'm aggressively letting you know that I'm over you.

You talk about your baby too much. I don't have a baby, so this makes no sense to me. Don't be offended, it's more like a hobby that I don't understand. Maybe when I have a baby we can be friends again.

#youwrite #toomany things with #hashtags in it and I fE#el Like I'm #reading transmissions from a ro#bot.

You got a boyfriend, and it sorta bummed me out.

You are having entire back and forth conversations with your friend (that have gone way beyond the internet socially acceptable one to two public replies) and you're clogging up my feed.

You just keep saying how much you hate "New Facebook" on Facebook and Twitter.

(Ugh. I hate New Facebook.)

You have tweeted over ten times in the last 15 minutes. Most people don't say that many things in public.

You're at Coachella and I'm not. Fuck. I should have gone to Coachella.

You checked into Walgreens on foursquare, and then posted that on Facebook and Twitter. It was unimportant on the first social network you used. Three was overkill.

We went to high school together. I didn't know you then. Turns out you're still not saying anything interesting.

You followed me. I didn't know who you were, but I followed you back. But then I realized you don't live anywhere near me and we share nothing in common. I'm trying to gracefully irish exit this online friendship. Don't make it weird.

You are a porn star who used to be funny and post inappropriate things, but now you just talk about being a vegan, which is sorta like birthday cake becoming lima beans.

You write blog posts that seem to be primarily about yourself, and then you post them on every social network that you are on, and it doesn't seem like you have any shame in your self promotion.

You stopped following me and it hurt me for some surprising reason. Now I'm not following you to make a point.

Wait, so you noticed I stopped following you? So you DO still think about me. Okay, I'll follow you again.

You are tweeting about how crazy your office is, and telling me that "this is how you roll at (blank corporation)." I don't work at (blank corporation), and really, you only needed to notify me of how you roll once.

You write replies to over 6 people in a tweet. Again: most people don't talk to this many people at once in public. You have used your entire 140 characters to identify the names you would like to speak to, thus not allowing yourself space to say anything. You're doing it wrong.

You are writing an inside joke that I don't get, and since I don't get it, I'm going to throw down my internet and get angwy because I WANNA BE IN ON THE JOKE, TOO.

You just keep saying you're hungry. Or that you want to nap. I mean, just go for it. We're not dating, you do not need my internet permission.

Your new profile picture makes you look less attractive than I remember you being.

Your profile picture is your dog or cat.

Your profile picture is you and your boyfriend. Look, I tried to hang in there when you got a boyfriend, and at start I just buried you on my feed. But now you commented on a mutual friend's post and I saw that profile picture and we gotta end this. I'm sorry.

You are being vague about everything you talk about. I honestly just don't know what you're talking about anymore. Are you sad? Are you happy? Do you WANT to tell the internet what's going on? Do you NOT want to tell the internet what's going on? Why are you talking to the internet?

You are posting about political things using poor grammar. I can't tell you how dead to me you are.

I literally don't know who you are and don't know how you ended up on my feed. Did I follow you when I was drunk or something? This is more my problem. I'm sorry. Awkward.

Your name is @BrendanGahan and you mostly just post surf videos with the word "epic" or "gnar" attached to it. Just kidding, Brendan. I love you. #insidejoke #hashtag

(The writer acknowledges that more than 120% of these insights are probably things he has done or will do in the future, and in some cases, was even using multiple iterations of things he was making fun in one insight so as to make an ironic point of how he is part of the nerdy internet problem he is trying to write a humorous post about. Please get the joke, Internet. Please.)

 

Drew Hoolhorst

San Francisco, CA 94110, USA

I have a black belt in feelings.