ugh, facebook. jeff used to like facebook.
back before it became the social behemoth it is today – before his mom and cousins and great-aunt bessie joined – it was pretty cool. sure, he mostly used it to hit on girls who had gotten way prettier since high school, and, okay, that may have resulted in a few bungled flings. but whatever. his statuses never got fewer than 50 likes and he was never short on dates.
but before he even set foot on the greendale campus he’d basically abandoned his account. the site had become so lame, and not only because the girls he’d gone out with were now posting photos of their alarmingly chubby babies.
so when annie announced that she’d friended everyone on the study group on their third meeting he had to re-download the app on his phone. he accepted her request just so she wouldn’t bug him about it and then dragged the blue square to his app graveyard, never to think of it again.
except she kept tagging him in things.
status updates and location check-ins and photos he hadn’t even known were being taken. he finally took her aside one day and explained that he liked to lay low online, but she just rolled her eyes and gave him that look that she’d shoot pierce whenever he talked about creating a myfacepage.
so, from then on, he tolerates it. sometimes, he likes her photos. and every once in a while – when he has a particularly witty retort – he comments on her statuses.
by the time she moves to DC, he’s actually glad he has it. he realized it’s like a journal, for her, more so than her other social media accounts. when he scrolls through his newsfeed between summer classes it makes him smile to see the new friends she’s making, the photos of the view from her balcony, and the restaurant she’d checked into the night before. she seems really happy.
then one morning, he rolls over in bed to shut off his alarm and sees she’d tagged him in a post at 2:17 a.m. it’s a photo of her in someone’s swanky apartment, which inexplicably makes his temper flare. but then he notices she’s holding a bottle of scotch – his favorite brand – and pointing to the label. there’s a little frown on her face.
the caption says, “miss yuo Jeff.”
he sits up, grinning to himself, and types out a comment.
“miss you too, drunkie.”
then he gets an idea.