These days, that essence is no longer enough. To complete the victory lap of a gorgeous wedding to a perfect spouse, the event photos must be shared on Facebook. It is only on Facebook where the success of the event be quantified in the form of social validation points, or likes.
To receive these validation points, and earn the highest social value possible, we must summon the collective support of our stranger friends. (Stranger friends are like online friends, except that we met them once or twice in real life before deciding to be made forever aware of their life’s special moments.) There was an obvious reason we did not invite our stranger friends to the ceremony itself: they are not our actual friends! But we need for them to pretend to be our actual friends. And we really aren’t asking that much, just a measly validation point. We know we haven’t heard from you in years and won’t ever hear from you again! And we don’t care if you are lying either. Just please give us the point! Help give us more than that unquantifiable love of our families! That is not enough!!
Wanting to share good news is normal. Wanting to share good news in person with people that aren’t close friends or family (co-workers, for instance) is normal. That’s perfect! Facebook exists for ‘sharing!’
But wanting to broadcast good news to your old coworkers, suite-mates from Freshman year, and your ex-girlfriend’s friends is oversharing. And the income from all of this oversharing is in a currency that can only buy superficial self-satisfaction, from the stranger friends that provided it. It is a Ponzi scheme.
And yet, the more monumental the event, the greater the motivation to share it on Facebook. First, for curiosity sake—how many likes will my engagement get?—and second, for bragging rights—look everyone from the past ten years, I AM ENGAGED NOW.
Facebook is my reverse motivation board. It is cringespiration. I can only scroll for a few minutes before requiring Dramamine.
There are two categories of this type of post by my millennial Facebook friends:
a) successful millennials bragging about their lives with fake pictures
b) unsuccessful millennials seeking validation akin to the participation trophy victories given to them as children.
(Anyone posting a question to Facebook is internet illiterate/a boomer.)
These are examples from my feed:
a)
Tom was never not a winner. He was objectively handsome; the only feature that could have been a source of ridicule was his dark red hair, always mistaken for brown. He had deep cut dimples in his cheeks, suggesting a maturity that counterbalanced his boyish freckles. His eyes were kind, more gray than blue, but still beautiful, accentuated by a legitimate smile that never faded. He was quiet in class, neither arrogant nor conceited in person, and his teacher's remembered him years after he'd left them. A natural athlete, he was ran varsity track as an eighth grader and played Varsity soccer as a Freshman. He was an honors student, and sat in the top 15% of the class. He was neither arrogant nor conceited. He worked hard, and success came easily. Grades, friends, sports, the occasional girl, and now, money.
He became a successful real estate broker in the affluent neighborhoods out east, and had the bank account to prove it. He was charitable with connections, and offered his friend Joe, and Joe's new wife Christine, a house to share with him when they were newlyweds. They were tired of living with Joe's parents, these days an unplanned necessity for newlywed millennials in pricey suburbs. Joe worked in the city, and the commute was killer, but the money he was saving was worth the time he spent on the train. Except that Tom was given ample alone time with Christine. Whether it was an elaborate game of 4D Chess, or True Love That Found A Way will never be known. What is known is the friends in the Facebook picture of the Wedding Party for Tom and Christine are uncomfortable apostates, in spite of their smiles. And who wouldn't be smiling at an all expenses paid trip to Puerto Rico by the generous groom to be?
If given the chance, would anyone have done differently than Tom?
b)
Ryan was an overweight, balding upperclassman living in a single dorm on a floor of Freshman students. (He was placed there because he filed for housing late last semester.) He was a literature major, but it was not his passion. He never read in his spare time, and instead preferred to watch anime, play video games and read comic books. He also loved to drink beer, smoke weed and party. He had lots of friends in the upperclassmen apartments, and often invited us to parties, where he was known as “Puma.” His biggest secret was his virginity. He admitted this shameful secret to our friend Chris one weekday night, when the two of them were drinking alone in Ryan’s disgusting room. Ryan never washed his feet. He had acid reflux, and when he felt it coming up inconveniently, he’d vomit it into empty water bottles. Sometimes they would fall behind his bed and he would find them months later. There were no plans for continuing his education after graduation, the only way to turn his literature degree into a viable profession. After college he moved back in with his parents and got a job at Target. He hasn’t made a life update post since.
In his most recent Facebook post he proudly posted a picture of a meal he made: a pale piece of chicken breast wrapped in soggy, microwavable bacon. Accompanying it was a pile of peas, corn and carrots, still runny with can water. It received a single ‘like’ from his brother. If this Facebook post is evident of anything, it is that Ryan’s life has not changed since college. His lonesome bachelor posts betray his true sadness and longing for any kind of dinner interaction. That, or he is too comfortable for his own good, and doesn’t mind missing out on a life of traditional fulfillment.
In either case, Facebook is a graveyard of hope and an orgy of gloating. Unless your goal upon visiting is popping millennial bubbles with your sledgehammer of truth, read a book.
(Anyone posting a question to Facebook is internet illiterate/a boomer.)
These are examples from my feed:
a)
Tom was never not a winner. He was objectively handsome; the only feature that could have been a source of ridicule was his dark red hair, always mistaken for brown. He had deep cut dimples in his cheeks, suggesting a maturity that counterbalanced his boyish freckles. His eyes were kind, more gray than blue, but still beautiful, accentuated by a legitimate smile that never faded. He was quiet in class, neither arrogant nor conceited in person, and his teacher's remembered him years after he'd left them. A natural athlete, he was ran varsity track as an eighth grader and played Varsity soccer as a Freshman. He was an honors student, and sat in the top 15% of the class. He was neither arrogant nor conceited. He worked hard, and success came easily. Grades, friends, sports, the occasional girl, and now, money.
He became a successful real estate broker in the affluent neighborhoods out east, and had the bank account to prove it. He was charitable with connections, and offered his friend Joe, and Joe's new wife Christine, a house to share with him when they were newlyweds. They were tired of living with Joe's parents, these days an unplanned necessity for newlywed millennials in pricey suburbs. Joe worked in the city, and the commute was killer, but the money he was saving was worth the time he spent on the train. Except that Tom was given ample alone time with Christine. Whether it was an elaborate game of 4D Chess, or True Love That Found A Way will never be known. What is known is the friends in the Facebook picture of the Wedding Party for Tom and Christine are uncomfortable apostates, in spite of their smiles. And who wouldn't be smiling at an all expenses paid trip to Puerto Rico by the generous groom to be?
If given the chance, would anyone have done differently than Tom?
b)
Ryan was an overweight, balding upperclassman living in a single dorm on a floor of Freshman students. (He was placed there because he filed for housing late last semester.) He was a literature major, but it was not his passion. He never read in his spare time, and instead preferred to watch anime, play video games and read comic books. He also loved to drink beer, smoke weed and party. He had lots of friends in the upperclassmen apartments, and often invited us to parties, where he was known as “Puma.” His biggest secret was his virginity. He admitted this shameful secret to our friend Chris one weekday night, when the two of them were drinking alone in Ryan’s disgusting room. Ryan never washed his feet. He had acid reflux, and when he felt it coming up inconveniently, he’d vomit it into empty water bottles. Sometimes they would fall behind his bed and he would find them months later. There were no plans for continuing his education after graduation, the only way to turn his literature degree into a viable profession. After college he moved back in with his parents and got a job at Target. He hasn’t made a life update post since.
In his most recent Facebook post he proudly posted a picture of a meal he made: a pale piece of chicken breast wrapped in soggy, microwavable bacon. Accompanying it was a pile of peas, corn and carrots, still runny with can water. It received a single ‘like’ from his brother. If this Facebook post is evident of anything, it is that Ryan’s life has not changed since college. His lonesome bachelor posts betray his true sadness and longing for any kind of dinner interaction. That, or he is too comfortable for his own good, and doesn’t mind missing out on a life of traditional fulfillment.
In either case, Facebook is a graveyard of hope and an orgy of gloating. Unless your goal upon visiting is popping millennial bubbles with your sledgehammer of truth, read a book.
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