The Facebook Fallacy

I may be exposing a most insecure side of my personality here, but so be it. Recently, I’ve been dealing with a bout of Facebook envy. Facebook can be a dangerous place for a woman in her late 20s; full of babies, gorgeous weddings, vacation photos, and grand announcements. Having reconnected with friends from childhood and distant branches of my family tree, I’m interacting with people with whom I haven’t had a real conversation since grade school, if ever.  I’m discovering that some of my long lost friends haven’t changed much at all from our playmate days, while others are nearly unrecognizable. Some have gotten married, started families, or started families and then gotten married. Some still live at home, and some have homes that rival the dream house that exists only in my wildest dreams. Some got started a long time ago, and some would rather be pushed from a moving car than be forced to settle down right now. A few are living their dreams, while others begin wistfully wishing for the weekend on Monday at 9 a.m. As happy as I am right now, seeing the lives of my 387 “friends” depicted in picture albums, status updates, links, and 20 second video clips has done more than a little to shake my confidence.

While I am fully supportive of those who wish to hold on to youth for as long as nature, their parents and society will let them, it’s those friends who have forged ahead into adulthood who have me wondering if I missed the bus that swung by about five years ago to pick us all up. I’m married, but definitely a newlywed. I’m childless with no immediate plans to be otherwise. I’m three years out of law school, but the bar exam is still fresh in my mind and my new business is still in the infant stage. I have never bought a new car and the thought of having to clean anything more than the two bedrooms and two bathrooms of my condo is downright terrifying. I’ve never been much of a crowd follower, but my Facebook friends have me envying the very lifestyle that I know I’m not ready for yet.

The other day, I was feeling especially mope-y, and almost shared it with the Facebook universe. I stopped myself. Aside from lamenting a bad headache, or a crappy workday, I only share a carefully crafted version of myself online; the wittiest, thinnest, happiest, smartest self I can create. I edit my thoughts before they make it into a status update. I delete the most unflattering photos from picture albums and make sure that no one has tagged a picture of me on their own page that might make me look fat (or I suppose accurately capture how I really look). I’ve started wondering if maybe I’m not the only one.

My envy is not necessarily a result of a deep desire to have what my friends have; it’s that I just don’t like feeling left behind. Will the children of all of my friends be old enough to babysit by the time I feel ready to be a mother? When my husband and I feel ready to commit to the financial obligation of owning and maintaining a house and a yard, will my friends already be decorating their dream homes? When I finally figure out my calling in life, will my friends be announcing on Facebook that they have been named the director of this or the president of that? If I’m already this far behind, is it ever possible for me to really catch up?

My guess is that a majority of my friends are very happy with the choices they have made and the places life has taken them. But I’d also be willing to bet that some of them are only winging it; desperately trying to figure out how they got to Responsibility Island and if there is even a remote possibility that a plane is coming to rescue them. Even I feel this way sometimes, and my responsibilities don’t include children, a mortgage payment, or a car payment, for that matter. I don’t doubt that there are incredible rewards that negate many of the sacrifices. But if I’m honest with myself, I’m not ready for sacrifices, regardless of the reward.

So, no matter how enticing some of you make responsibility look, I’ve decided not to join you today, tomorrow, or even next year. Upon truly thinking about the lives of my “real life” friends (as in the people I see in the flesh and speak to on the phone on a semi-regular basis), I’m even stronger in my resolve. Marriages dissolve, husbands cheat, babies get sick, air conditioners break and new cars get repossessed. Maybe these events don’t occur on Facebook, but they happen in real life. So, as idyllic as you successful few have made adulthood out to be, I think I’ll pass on the really hard stuff for now, and take my Facebook with a grain of salt. Check back with me in five years. I may have caught the bus by then.