This posting may not rock your spiritual socks.
But, who cares?
I have to get something it out of my system.
It bugs me when a married couple puts their names together to form one Facebook page.
I can’t stand Facebook love.
Don’t tell me it’s biblical, that the “two shall become one flesh”. It’s more like one body with two heads.
But, go ahead. Call yourself WalterAnne. SuziBob. BillyJeanKing.
I’ll never do it, never mash five measly little letters into my husbands and say “Hey, here we are.”
Mind you, on most social outings I let my husband take the lead. He usually chats up everyone while I just stand and take it all in.
Not this time.
I will not be holding his hand while he runs onto our Facebook page like a kid heading for the pool on the first day of summer.
He can hit the water. Cannonball style. Alone.
Me? I’ll slip secret agent style into that wild online party. Everybody posting at the top of their lungs. Pictures. Songs. Video clips. Cute comments. Really sad songs.
No way will I stay very long. One visit to Facebook keeps me up all night wondering, “what have I done? How could I have written that? Will I ever be able to show my cyber face again?”
I hope you understand.
It’s too much to put together. My husband’s easy stride through the columns of relationship. Me stumbling over complicated comments, likes and shares.
The ultimate result, the one that brings our marriage down, will be the first time we merge two status updates into one.
I’m in the bathroom. Making pancakes for breakfast.
I rest my case.
No combined Facebook for me.
Sorry, honey. This is one time I will have to go it alone.