I've had to eat my words. What a peculiar expression, I've had to eat my words. I am picturing myself sitting at the dinner table, with a plateful of brightly coloured words. And what would these words spell? My fork would be prodding the word, "Facebook" and my knife would be slicing the words, "I don't use." That's right, "I don't use Facebook."
Except I do now!
When I first heard about Facebook, I questioned why I would want people I hadn't seen for years poking me or buying me virtual drinks. Who wants to be poked by ex boyfriends or someone you have never liked anyway? Not me thanks! I thought I was far too superior for Facebook and pokes and virtual drinks. I had friends who I saw on a regular basis, I had my beloved blog and my dear blog readers. That was enough for me.
But I became curious. Friends would inform me that photographs from nights out were uploaded on their Facebook wall. Friends would fill me in with tales of correspondence from so-and-so, who they once brushed past in the street in 1999, or so-and-so who they'd sat next to on a bus to Romford Market. Curiously, I found myself wanting to look at photographs on walls. I even found myself enquiring after so-and-so, a random and amusing blast from the past.
Next I found myself setting up an account, so I could have a nose and see what all the fuss was about in Facebook world. Suddenly Facebook fever entered my body and I was messaging all sorts of people and uploading my own photographs on my own wall. I couldn't stop myself! I had the Facebook bug!
This bug was lodged in my brain and in my laptop. Soon I was wondering if anyone had commented on my Facebook status, replying to comments I'd made regarding yogurt lids and other useless topics. Soon I was switching my laptop on and heading straight to Facebook world.
And guess what? Next I was thanking this social network for reuniting me with my own blast from the past. This new world had put me in touch with an old friend.
In my past life, in the flat that time forgot, also known as the house by the pylon, I was very good friends with a girl named Sarah. Sarah and I's partners knew each other and it wasn't long until Sarah I and were enjoying each others company at dinner parties, barbecues, and any old excuse to get together to swap books and drink wine. We certainly had some fun.
One night I dined at her house and decided to dress as a man and pretend I was a man. I even drew hair on my face and legs. I'm not sure why I did this, I just did. One evening, at a wedding reception, I slid across the entire length of the kitchen floor, landed in an undignified heap, had to go to the hospital, and was told I'd sprained my ankle and would be on pain killers and crutches for weeks. We laughed at the time, through my intense pain. But I wasn't laughing when I was stuck in the flat with a foot the size of an obese elephant, and empty food cupboards. Sarah brought me food and cheered me up. Another evening a hair cut went horribly wrong and ended in a bloody mess, I won't go into the details but again it was funny at the time. And how could I forget the trip to the race horses where we spent most of the day in a limousine, drinking champagne darling, and I accidentally dropped my money down the toilet. Oh there were so many happy, silly times. But the silliest thing was not keeping in contact after we both split from our partners and our lives branched out in different directions. Until Facebook brought us back together again.
I saw Sarah the other evening. It was brilliant to see her again. We didn't stop talking and laughing all night. And we boxed and played bowls on Wii. And we swapped books and chatted excitedly about our reading material. And we drank wine and ate pasta and reminisced. I realised how much I'd missed our friendship.
So you see, I've had to eat my words. I do use Facebook now. And do you know what? It's been great.