God, I remember the day like it was yesterday.
It was a Monday.
Just like any other Monday, really.
I was sitting at my desk, fielding through emails and phone calls as usual.
A notice popped up saying I had a new message in my inbox.
Looking back, it feels like everything happened in slow motion after that.
I remember dragging the cursor to the open web browser.
I remember the placement of the web browser window on my desktop. Not a full screen, and a little off to the right.
I remember that the sun was shining and it was 72 degress.
I remember that I was wearing a green Ramones shirt and I was smiling…
I was smiling.
Then the nine big black bold letters I never wanted to read:
“Your father wants to be your friend on Facebook”
How in the fuck did this happen?
I stared at the email for what seemed like an eternity. I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move.
Do I befriend my father and risk him exposing the pseudo-literate/cultured facade I’ve worked so hard to create for my profile as the sham that it is? I can just picture it now- I get a note on my wall saying, “Lauren, dear, I’m looking at your profile pic, why are you reading Ulysses and dressed like Truman Capote? You don’t wear glasses OR smoke!”
Or do I pretend like I never saw the email and when he asks, say something like, “Oh, you befriended me on Facebook? I have no idea what the hell that is.” That would never work!
I realized I was going to have to accept that my father was now becoming internet savvy and it was just a matter of time before he caught wind of this Facebook. Shell-shocked for a week, I felt like I was just coming out of the woods when I get a phone call from my mother.
“Hey Honey! I think I’m going to join this Facebook thingy. Can you help me?”
I slam my head against the desk.
“Mmkay Mmmom”, I mustered through smooshed lips.
I felt like a lead weight, heavy with anxiety. My heart beating fast.
Not her too!
“Are you okay with that?”
“Are you sure?”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
I breathe in deeply.
It’s ok, Lauren. It’s ok. Relax.
You will be able to handle this!
“Are you sure you want to join Facebook, Mom? I mean, it’s not easy to figure out.”
Then the Jewish guilt trick.
“Oh…ok. Sure, yeah, if you don’t want me to…”
“No, no, Mom. It’s ok. Of course I’ll help you.”
And I did.
And I accepted my Dad’s friend request.
And I helped my Mom create her profile.
And I suggested friends to them.
And I pointed out when they would accidentally write on their own wall instead of their friend’s.
And then I get an email from my 90 year-old Grandmother asking me to be Facebook friends.
It’s become a Facebook world and we all have to live in it.