It’s not you, it’s me. Oh wait….yeah, actually it’s you.

Another day, another post bemoaning the unfathomable behaviour of people on Facebook. This time: friend requests.

So, I get the desire to reconnect with people you went to school with. A bit of nostalgia, a bit of curiosity, a bit of secretly hoping that the pretty, popular girl has lost her looks and several husbands along the way. I get that. What I don’t get, is making friends with people you never liked in the first place. And, even weirder, with people who never liked you.

Just recently I had a friend request from a guy who was, frankly, the school dickhead. He barely spoke to me at school and since leaving school I have never seen him again. In fact, the only thing I ever remember him saying to me was on the last day of term, when the silly string had been liberally sprayed, and he shoved me in the shoulder and said “I bet you never wash that stuff out of your hair. Because you stink”. Awww, warm and fuzzy memories of those happy school days. Sigh.

Fast forward more than 20 years and suddenyl he wants to be friends on Facebook. Er….right you are. Now don’t misunderstand me. I’m not still festering with rage because a schoolboy was mean to me. I haven’t spent 20 odd years making little models of him in a darkened droom while my hair gets greasy and the pizza boxes pile up. I had completely forgotten about him until he sent that friend request. But when you get a friend request rom someone from school, isn’t the first thing you do to think “oh yeah, I remember him, because [insert memory here]? So, in this case it’s “Yeah I remember him. He was an evil little twat.” For all I know he might be a very nice man by now, maybe he’s found God, maybe he’s a primary school teacher, maybe he makes heart shaped cupcakes and gives them away to orphans, I don’t know because I don’t chuffing care.

It’s not just him, although he’s the extreme example. I’ve had a few from people at school who never spoke to me. They are, effectively, complete strangers. All they know about me is my name. Well if that’s all it takes then consider my bezzies to be Kirsty Allsop and Christopher Biggins (that would be pretty cool, although they might eat all the crisps, which would not be very cool). Honestly though, what are they on about? Why would you send a friend request to someone just because you once ignored them in the corridoor on the way to double French?

Seriously. Is it just me or is that a bit weird? *Puts hands over ears to block out the chorus of people shouting at their computer “It’s you! get over it and move on!”* Well, what can you do? Here’s what you can do. You can make like Zammo and Just Say No.

Other news

Getting married is BRILLIANT. I can’t understand why people get so stressed about it. All you have to do is pick things. That’s it. Pick the venue (admittedly his bit is quite boring. You have to traipse around old houses while a fat lady with a clipboard who has never met you before tells you exactly what your wedding will be like. Ant and I spent the whole process bemoaning the fact that we couldn’t just get married down the pub. then we found a pub we could get marred in. happy days!!), choose a dress, some shoes, a hairdo, some grub and some tunes. And then pick somewhere to go on holiday after. What’s the problem??

The best bit of the picking so far is picking things to go on the gift list.  Basically, you just go shopping for LOADS of stuff, and some people might buy it for you. You don’t have to pay for any of it. Again, happy days!! The things that are available for the guest list are also brilliant. Apparently, your marriage is doomed to fail if you don’t own a set of turkey forks or an asparagus cooker.

Making wedding lists is totally my new favourite hobby, although I cannot tell a lie, I am a bit addicted to it. I don’t think I’ve gone a day without adding something, and yes I do mean I, because Ant’s input so far has been to sanction my bedding choice and add a torch. That’s probably not how you are supposed to do it. I expect you’re supposed to skip around John Lewis, hand in hand, choosing things together and saying things like: “I simply must have this sugar bowl, it matches your eyes”, or: “you choose the toilet roll holder darling, you have the best taste” “no, sweetcheeks, you do” “no, you do” “no you” etc etc. Oh, well.


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3 Responses to It’s not you, it’s me. Oh wait….yeah, actually it’s you.

  1. annablagona says:

    I went MENTAL with Wedding List Number 1. I knew I’d lost it when I added stationery.

  2. Adele says:

    This explains the heart shaped ramekins. I had wondered. x

  3. vividity says:

    I don’t know you at all, but can I be your friend?

    Had a good laugh reading your post. Found you because apparently someone found my blog via your blog. Lord knows how THAT happened!

    Love your writing style. And the gorgeous illustrations.

    Jen.

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