I see you there.
I feel you.
I'm getting to you, I promise.
Well, maybe not.
Things can get weird and freaky in the social sphere of Facebook. It's hard to judge a friend request at first glance if the name doesn't immediately stick out to you. In fact, I personally consider it a massive surprise almost every time I get a friend request. See, there's an outer shell of circumstance that usually comes into play, and random, out-of-the-blue requests violate that important part of the process.
Picture: you're chilling like a villain with some cool kids, you know about three-quarters of them, and you break through your crippling anxiety to engage with the other quarter. You guys hit it off just enough, and by the end of the night, they're just like any other friend to you. You've gotten over the hump of uncertainty and have successfully made a friend.
And you know what? When that friend request comes, you'll be anticipating it. Heck, maybe you were the one who sent it-- maybe you got bold enough to not only talk to new people, but offer your hand in virtual kinship, as well.
(Proud of you!)
But that's because there were hours of discourse and build-up leading into that notification showing its devious little head(s). It was the unspoken agreement you guys had reached—somewhere along the line, you crossed a threshold into actually learning critical facts about each other, weighed those facts against the possibility of the other party being a serial killer and decided that you probably would end up interacting again at some point in the future anyway.
So when I see a friend request sneak onto my screen, and I haven't met anybody new in three or more days, I freak out a little. The aura of certainty has been dispelled— where on earth could that request have come from? And usually, reading the name of the sender—which I guess is your name, since this is apparently an open letter addressed to you—doesn't help at all. If I recognize it, it's only vaguely, and in such a way that makes it difficult to judge whether or not I've actually met you.
That's really the one prerequisite—if I've shaken your hand and learned your name, I can understand where the friend request is coming from. Otherwise, it can be harrowing trying to unravel the mysteries of where you came from.
And God forbid I don't even recognize the name at all! Holy cannoli, what a conundrum. Do I check how many mutual friends we have? Do I go and check class listings to find out if we're in a Geology lecture together? There's really no right answer, and never any conclusive discoveries, either.
But I realize this is an open letter, and open letters usually have some sort of emotional catharsis, and I've really just spent the past 500 words complaining and explaining basic social protocols. So, lemme bring this around real quick.
It's nothing against you, random Facebook friend requests. It's really me, and my insecurities, that banish you to the purgatory of unanswered beckons. I mean, listen to me up there. I'm clearly not right in the head. I make up all these minute, rigid rules that define friendship and over-analyze virtually everything else that comes my way. That's not normal. Why can't I just let go, accept that random friend requests are going to happen no matter what I say or do and just hit 'Accept' with that meditative ennui that most people treat Facebook with?
So, I promise to get to you. Maybe. Just let me check if we happened to go to the same middle school...
