There are some things you just don’t need to know. Actually, forget need, there are some things you just don’t want to know. And yet, I’d say at least 50% of my Facebook friends are desperate to tell me everything. I don’t necessarily mean the everyday status updates (“Charlene Robinson is putting the kettle on!”), bizarrely I actually quite like those but then I do have a slightly strange and probably unhealthy interest in what other people eat; anyway the bits that really make me shudder are thing things that people “become fans” of.
Imagine the scene, you’ve eaten too much, feeling a bit sick anyway, you log on to Facebook and it shouts at you that “Nell Mangel is a fan of kinky sex!” (oh, by the way, I’ve changed names to protect the innocent and to stop people hating me. I don’t really know Nell Mangel. Think she’s dead anyway but that’s by the by.) I don’t really want to know that people are fans of kinky sex. Does that make me square? Maybe I’m square. I just don’t want to imagine it and if you tell me about it then I will be forced to imagine it. There are all sorts of similarly grim things that people wish to make public: “Bouncer became a fan of naked cuddles!” Thanks a lot, Bouncer! Now I’m imagining you naked! Also wishing I could think of more false names since Bouncer doesn’t really work in the context of discussing nakedness. Oh god now I am imagining a naked Bouncer, his golden fur discarded as he hops in the shower before going to the Watering Hole for a tinny or two. See? I have to imagine it.
On the other end of the scale are the very normal things that people are “fans” of. “Mr Udigowa is a fan of breathing! Become a fan of breathing!” Um, OK. I suppose I am a fan of breathing since the alternative doesn’t seem like much fun. I wonder if you can become a fan of becoming a fan? Wait, no, that would probably break Facebook.