I’ve recently admitted to myself that I am in fact addicted to social media. There burns an artificial fire of a “need” to check people’s Facebooks, Twitter feeds, or google them to see what other member’s only site info I can dig up. It’s like this sick obsession with being a viral Nancy Drew.

It all started in grammar school. Yes, I know social media didn’t exist back then but if I would have been infinitely more popular if it had. I always knew everyone’s name, place of origin, and at least two to three random facts about everyone in my class at all times. People didn’t like me, they didn’t want to tell me their secrets, they thought I was a “know it all” or a “busy body.” All because I was just fascinated by people and their stories.

Getting older, the advent of Facebook changed my image amongst all peers and colleagues. Mainly because all the “facts” that were exclusive to me are now published, neatly on a profile page voluntarily. (Thank you, Mark Zuckerberg.) It’s not “weird” to know that much about people you don’t actually know. The problem is now I am compelled to “take it up another notch.” There’s no marvel, mystery, excitement on getting to “know” someone new anymore because there is no work involved.

I’ve recently acquired a stalker via my twitter account. He’s from Pakistan, resides in Palo Alto, and comments on my every tweet. This dude has tracked down my youtube, facebook, and personal website. All because he feels like he “knows” me via my twitter persona. This is highly flattering since I do have an exceptionally hilarious tweeter feed but its hardly the entire package. It’s a small colored square of my rubix cube of a personality. I’m not complaining- it’s great to have fans. The moral of the story here is: two of the easiest components of getting to know someone these days thanks to social media are factoids and sex.

The question is no longer how they they like it. What’s your favorite ____? Or even what tax bracket you’re in… but honestly, what else is there? Energy. Bare with me here, it’s not what you know or how you do it its about how they take you in energetically. My addiction to social media really just fills a void… the void of being distant, the fear of being sucked in and spit out. It’s almost like a reality of make believe/made up of facts and truths that are easily fabricated and subjective.

So people don’t call me “nosy” or “Yenta” anymore. Knowing a little bit about a lot of people is no longer taboo. With that out there, what would it take for the Facebook message to morph back into the phone call? What would a talk until sunrise without preconceived notions look like? What if I didn’t change my twitter status more often than I change my underwear?

Bottom Line: I’m hitting refresh on a Facebook page for 25 minutes only to realize it’s not a real person. He didn’t call… hitting refresh won’t change that. My satin panties, snuggie, and DVD of Twilight: Eclipse still can a Happy Valentine’s Day make…

Next Up: … not going to lead you guys on. What would it take for the universe to deliver an expansive partner that I’ve been asking for?

Your Undercover Lover,

Joneshaw