Myspacious and finally free

Dear Myspace,

It’s not you, it’s me.

I think we both knew this would never last. In the beginning, we spent so much time together. I couldn’t go more than 10 minutes at work without knowing what you doing and who you were doing it with. I was so insecure about being the older woman. I was sure that we wouldn’t get along because I was over the age of consent for To Catch a Predator, I didn’t know how to make those cute little clever hearts and thingamajigs on my display name, and I had absolutely no pictures of myself standing before a mirror in a dusty dorm bathroom with my butt sticking up in the air showing off my thong and pursing my lips and trying to look cute while trying to capture the image on my mom’s “Buy 1 Get 3 Free” Nokia 6310.

But I was wrong. I loved you and you loved me back. You helped me reconnect with old high school friends, work buddies, and guys from Auburn whose last names’ would escape me as I vaguely tried remember their faces through the disorienting haze of smoke, patchouli, and black-lighting that made me powerless to curly-haired, lanky, Chuck Taylor-wearing 6^th-year seniors. I am forever grateful.

Hey. Forget what you’ve heard. This is not about someone else. I know I’ve been neglecting you. I used to take such joy in picking my new song for the week and changing my profile to some obnoxious Auburn wallpaper just to annoy any so-called “sports fan” that didn’t have the sense to support the Tigers. War (Damn! Damn! Damn!) Eagle. I know you’re heard about me posting pictures and the like elsewhere. I thought I could have you both. But it’s just not right.

Listen, Pooh Bear. I’m getting up there in years and I need more substance in my life. I’ll be 30 soon and like it is so eloquently put in the critically-acclaimed Legally Blonde, I need a Jackie… not a Marilyn.

This isn’t goodbye, it’s see you later (when I log in under my friends’ accounts). I’ll think of you often…and fondly.

Best,

Andrea

Formerly member number 101,380,978