I remember when Facebook first came about for my friends and I, the freedom of having a place to talk to your friends and share photos without having to gain permission from anyone. It was a place we could openly talk to one another, and use whatever foul mouthed language we chose.
I met friends over Facebook, and was invited to events – life all in all became more social. It was an escape away from our parents and homework. As Facebook grew, constantly changing trying to find the best look and easiest way to share photos etc. We were all happy in our little internet world.
Then the friend request came from my Mother.
I ignored it at first, however it’s quite impossible to ignore your own Mother if you live in her house.
It took a good week before I finally gave in, how bad could it be? I wasn’t aware of the slippery slope that I’d clambered onto.
She started commenting on my statuses, adding my friends and commenting on their statuses.
The Facebook rape was then talked about over the dinner table as well as, ‘Who was that guy in that photo with you? Is he your boyfriend?’
‘No, nor is anyone else I’m tagged with. Didn’t you even check my relationship status?’ To be honest I was just glad that she didn’t comment her opinion on my photo.
Facebook introduced the option to tag your friends in statuses and comments. All of a sudden I had an extra three notifications a day. Asking me where I was, that I had chores to do, what did I want for tea? ARGH. Soon I had to sit my own Mother down and tell her the unwritten rules of Facebook. ‘How to look good when being Facebook stalked.’ Nobody would be interested in me if my wall was filled up with posts from my own Mother! She understood, we joked, we laughed, and everything was right in the world once more.
Then another friend request came; my Grandmother.
I didn’t even know that she had a computer let alone knew how to work it and set up an account on Facebook. She quickly deleted me due to the recent pictures from last Saturday night. Sorry Gran!