I owe Dan Tobin of Surgical Strikes for inspiring this post. In case you’re wondering he’s the only person I ever begged to be Facebook friends with me that actually gave in. What I like about Dan, apart from his awesome sense of humour, spot-on writing skills and innate decency, is his compassionate, kindly heart.
I have 60 Facebook friends. There are 24 among them that I’ve never met in real life. Thirteen of that 24 are blogfriends.
I suspect that at least two of the 24 I’ve never met don’t actually exist.
I’ve played Scrabulous with 16 of my Facebook friends.
Thirteen of my Facebook friends are also my Flickr contacts.
Eight of my Facebook friends are related to me by blood. Three more are in my extended family. One of the three is my ex-husband. All my children are my Facebook friends and two of my six siblings.
I’ve only worked with two of my Facebook friends although I am friends with my current boss’s wife. None of my former school or college friends are Facebook friends with me. Boo hoo! But one previous tutor is.
I’ve known 14 of my Facebook friends for over 20 years. Six of the 14 are my children, siblings and ex-hubby. Two others I found through Facebook after having been out of touch for more than 20 years.
I’ve babysat seven of my Facebook friends. This number doesn’t include my three daughters but it does include one sibling.
Nineteen of my Facebook friends have slept in my house. Of those seven have shared my bed. Six platonically as only one of those was married to me. None of my former lovers are my Facebook friends. Neither is my present beloved.
I’ve stayed with fifteen of my Facebook friends and shared a meal with 27 of them. I’ve had drinks or coffee with eight of the rest. I’ve taken drugs with 18 of my Facebook friends but it’s been a good while since that happened. I’m fairly sure some of them might still be up for it.