Wow. I mean, WOW. I can't believe I am about to blog about what I just learned from Facebook. But, hell, it's a happy, sunny October day and I am feeling that kind of dangerous.
I have a friend from law school who has a busy and full life-- as in, two small children and an almost-full-time law practice with a commute to and from the suburbs several times per week. Jane Doe, as we'll call her, has a hectic life and we're all headed in her direction as soon as we get our brood conceived and whatnot. Understandably, she is a little busy and hard to pin down when we all get together, but we cut her slack because it's hard to manage everything on our plates and if your friends can't give you some latitude, then who can?
Here's the funny part. When my sister sent out the invitation for my bachelorette party via e-vite, she was the first to RSVP that she would indeed join us for the hip hop fest. I was surprised at the speed in which she responded, but assumed I would see her. You know, in light of her RSVP that she was coming and all. So, the the night of the party, right before we struck up the O.P.P. and got jiggy and all, my other law school friend, Cindy, asked me if I had heard from Jane Doe, and we assumed when she never showed up that something must have come up. Sick kids, baby sitter woes, a serious second thought on dancing around a room to Beyonce with the Bridal Caboose.
Fastforward to Sunday. We got an announcement that our friend Allison had a healthy baby boy, so the emails were flying among the law school peeps. I saw an email to the group from Jane Doe and I just sent her a little note saying, essentially, "missed you at the bachelorette party. I hope all is well." She responded instantly saying, "I can't catch a break....the babysitter cancelled and my husband was out of town. We'll def see you at the wedding. When I realized I couldn't go, I changed my response on the e-vite." I literally didn't think twice about it from there. What the hell do I know about trying to get a Saturday night babysitter for two kids under the age of 6? Maybe I had a second or two of thinking about how strange it would be to log on to an email account and then scroll back to an evite sent 4 weeks prior to tell someone you are, after all, not coming to a party. Maybe I had a split moment when I thought to myself, "hmmm, she could have just emailed me or Cindy or Allison. We're all glued to our blackberries, so we would have gotten the message."
But, really that's all.
Then, Facebook, that fickle mistress changed the game. Last night I got a message from Jane Doe asking me to be her friend on Facebook. I confirmed she was my friend and spent a few minutes this morning looking at pictures of her very adorable children. But, then I scrolled down and saw an update she posted on October 4, the day of the bachelorette party. It said, "Jane Doe is going to dinner with old friends-- sitter and all."
Hmmmm. It's so weird to feel like you caught someone in a lie. Initially, I felt a rush of power, like I knew something about her that she probably didn't want me to know. It's like the power I feel for the three seconds I know gossip no one else does. The powerful feeling is fleeting, mostly because I am a big mouth and can't hold gossip of any kind more than 3 seconds. Then, I felt an uncontrollable urge to laugh-- a full on, head-cocked-back laugh that really came from deep in my belly. I assume that the feeling underneath that laughter is joy. But why joy? Why would I feel joy about finding out a friend from law school told a fib about her plans and bagged on the bachelorette party? What's so freaking happy about that?
Maybe there is joy because I feel a very deep sense of freedom that this little discovery lead me to realize consciously. I feel free because I don't really care. I don't care if Jane got a better offer or totally forgot and then lied to cover her tracks. It feels exhilerating not to care. The party came and went without her and I was surrounded by 15 dear, brave, and selfless women. I wanted for nothing that night-- except for maybe slightly more core strength and a touch more rhythym. I hope the same is true for Jane-- I hope she got what she needed and wanted that night. I looked up the restaurant where she ate that night according to Facebook: It was "ecclectic seafood in the French-American tradition." I don't exactly know what that means, except I assume it's somewhere between Long John Silvers and fancy pants scallopes and fruits de mer. Maybe she had the squab roasted with foie gras and spinach.
The point is: WHO CARES? In my younger days (like 6 months ago), I would feel all stirred up and hurt and wounded that someone "dissed" me or I would get worked up feeling betrayed by a lie. Now, I just think I am a clever, clever girl for following the clues like Daphne on Scooby Doo. The clever part is actually debatable because all I really am is a woman who was procrastinating at work by reading other people's Facebook walls while waiting for legal inspiration to strike.
To be clear, I am not a stranger to the lie-- sure, I tell them when I don't want to hurt someone's feelings or I don't want to face the truth of a situation-- like the fact that a friendship may have seen it's sunset a few years ago. So, I get it, I really do. What's new is that I have a sense of humor about it all. I think it's funny. It would be a transformative experience to bring this out in the open next time I talk to Jane. But, you know what, this isn't group therapy-- we certainly get plenty of that-- and the state of our frienship seems clear from this whole sequence of events. That's the other part of the freedom: I am free to let this go and not make an issue out of it. I can laugh about it to Jeff and Cindy and harbor some perhaps unwarranted moral superiority, even though I can imagine making similar choices in certain circumstances.
And being free to just laugh and move on is the greatest freedom in the world. I wouldn't trade that option for pointing out that I know the "truth" or demanding an explanation. I would rather be laughing and enjoying myself and learning the lesson: if I want to be close to other people, and some days I honestly do want that (however ambivalently), I have a choice about being honest about who I am, what I want, and what I choose. I am free to lie or evade or make up stories, but then no one will never know me, they will just collect an empty series of facts and will make up their own stories in their own heads without any true input from me.
No thanks.
I gotta say, Facebook is complicated, but I think I am falling madly in love with it.
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