Originally uploaded by canon.fodder.
I quite surprised myself how excited I was to receive a friendship request. The last time someone asked me, just blurted, straight out like that, "Can I be your friend" I was eight and a half. It was Delia Page; I pulled her hair.
Ever since then I have promised myself that if it happened again I would handle it better. I knew the time had come. I accepted. "How do you know Jake?", asked Facebook, quick as a flash.
Facebook recognises thirteen different answers to that question. I considered them all, carefully.
#6 "I suspect he is some kind of creepy internet stalker" seemed to fit the bill, but I paused, the echo of Delia Page's thirty year old tears ringing in my ears, and reconsidered.
#4 "He stumbled across my blog and was impressed by my dry English wit (if understandably a little confused by my use of irony) and wanted to know me better" was tempting.
But in the end I settled for the simple, if self-contradictory
#13 "I don't even know this person" .
All in all, an odd place, Facebook
Later, Jake sent me a Facebook message [it's just like email except that because of a strategic error by Facebook you have to go their site to collect it*] I clicked. Jake had written: "Just so you know, no I don't know you, but no I am not some creepy, faceless internet stalker"
So that's all right then.
If you are interested, I am just plain botogol on Facebook. I have just one friend (hint)
* Then how do you know you've even got a message?, you might ask. Because they send you an email to tell you. hmmm...