Good old Facebook

So here I am, tired and bored silly, too fagged out to get up from this MacBook Pro, and do something useful.
I’ve already -a) put tee-shirts away, -b) put away laundry I did the other day, -c) opened boxes I received from UPS (about six; mainly dog-treats), and -d) probably something else.
There are multiple things I could do: -a) match credit-card charge-slips to my statement, -b) chop up cardboard for recycling, -c) put my renewed auto registration on the windshield of my car, -d) do some ‘pyooter bookkeeping, -e) various online thingies, or -f) walk my poor dog up the street — it’s raining.
But it’s easier to just drive this old MacBook Pro, and sling words (what I’m doing now).
Much as I usually avoid Facebook, I fired it up (not really, since I already have it as an open tab on my browser).
I inadvertently noticed ***** ******* is no longer among my “Facebook Friends.”
I thought she was.
We both graduated Brandywine High School north of Wilmington (DE) in 1962, and I met her again a few years ago at my 50-year reunion.
I found she’d been a computer programmer. She reminded me of my wife, who had just died, and was also a computer programmer. Both were smart enough, and savvy enough, and most importantly self-driven enough, to solve some mysterious programming glitch mucking everything.
I found ***** had a Facebook; so does her husband (also BHS ’62).
I decided to try finding her, since I have a Facebook myself — I don’t look at it much.
So I began poking around. Not desperate, just killing time to avoid sheer boredom.
Facebook drives me crazy. It’s become so complicated I hardly look at it.
Somehow I got deluged with 89 bazilyun ***** *******s, nearly all sluts and tart wannabees. Clearly not *****.
My search continued, but after an hour I gave up. Facebook was frustrating me with its multitudinous search parameters.
Perhaps a week later I tried again. I tried graduates of Brandywine high-school, and got slammed with every graduate since 1960, our first graduating class.
I’m supposed to pore through all them graduates to find *****? I narrowed to BHS grads named ***** *******. Again, acres of buxom cleavage, not the person I was looking for.
Again I put my search aside. After a couple weeks I tried again = killing time as usual.
Holy mackerel! There’s *****.
I was so amazed I sent her a friend-request.
She “friended” me, but has she defriended me since?
That’s okay with me. We had little in common other than I found her.
She told me she only had a Facebook for family. I ain’t family. But she did mention she got a Smartphone, an iPhone I think.
Smartphones are incredibly intriguing. I asked her about it, hoping she might be as intrigued as I am.
Back to Facebook: the fact she’s no longer among my “friends.”
HELLO Facebook. A better word would be “acquaintance.” ***** is more an acquaintance than a friend — that is, an actual friend I spill to.
Facebook says I have 53 “friends.” I thought it was 56. Have people defriended me? I thought only I could defriend someone, but that may be just another misunderstanding of Facebook on my part.
I decided to try searching ***** again. There she was, my primary hit, listed as a “friend.”
Go figure! Listed as a “friend,” but not in my friends list.
Grist for the blog.

• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her immensely. Best friend I ever had, and after my childhood I sure needed one. She actually liked me.