Saying Goodbye to Facebook is not as easy as I thought it would be.

My relationship with Facebook started off like one crazy party. I couldn't wait to get up and signon. "I'm here! Let the party begin!" And there they were...all my friends waiting for me to join in on the fun. And it was fun. Great posts, shared by all.

Sarah and her hubby finally had a baby and Don got promoted to supervisor of the late shift at Taco Bell.

Patty Bishop's son graduated college after three tries and ten years.

Cousin Ted finally had hip surgery and Brenda (A former meth addict) found Jesus. (That last one got over two hundred "Likes".)

After awhile, the party started to change. Mary Ann, former high school cheer leader and exwife of "Spike", second string quarter back and vice president of the bank, started talking about how lonely she feels and unloved and misunderstood.

A crowd gathered around, handed out Kleenex and reminded her she's still as beautiful as she was forty years ago. (Even though her cover photo's been run through more filters than radio active material at a nuclear waste facility.) This gets, 110 Likes, 24 Sad, and 2 laughs.)

Randy, owner and operator of, Randy's Used Car's, announces he's running for Mayor and needs our vote and...a small contribution to his election campaign. (This gets 27 "Likes". Randy is an idiot.)

Jim supports the NRA. Betty supports abortion. A liberal lefty calls Jim an idiot and asks Betty out on a date. Louise has a "Go Fund Me" for her bosses ex-alcoholic cousin Timmy, in need of a liver transplant.

Patty Bishop's, third husband, fueled by frustration and fermented grapes, admits Patty's loser kid is still living in their basement with a collection of soiled hand-puppets and dog-eared copies of Hustler Magazine.

Now I dread signing-on to Facebook. I dread reading posts challenging me to "Share" if I'm a true friend. They makes me feel bad, icky. Like when I see grandpa with a pee stain on the front of his pants. It's embarrassing. People I once admired, now look foolish.

It's like any other party that goes on too long. It's best to leave before things get ugly. Before your cousin falls into the coffee table or your neighbor sticks his tongue in your ear.

I think I'll just mosey into the bedroom, dig my coat out from the bottom of the pile, and slink out the back door.

The really sad thing...I'm not sure anyone will notice I'm gone.