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"After three years of writing for some pretty high exposure blog platforms, stuff doesn&amp;#039;t tend to bug me. You think I&amp;#039;m ugly? Rex doesn&amp;#039;t, so who cares. You think I&amp;#039;m stupid? My college degree says otherwise. You think I&amp;#039;m annoying? Well I have to agree with you there! (You try living inside my brain for day. I can go from,&amp;quot;Tacos or burgers for dinner?&amp;quot; to &amp;quot;Rollerblades vs. skates?&amp;quot; to &amp;quot;What the hell was Kate Gosselin thinking with that bad wig on DWTS last night?&amp;quot; in zero to three seconds. Occasionally I do get freaked out, however, and a comment from this post did it for me. Entitled &amp;quot;Five Ways to Fight Fair in Marriage,&amp;quot; one person remarked that her husband wouldn&amp;#039;t add her to his Facebook page. While that sends out some obvious red flags, the real bomb went off for me with her reaction to it. She wrote, &amp;quot;As of the last half an hour, I have decided I will no longer talk to him about this but I am going to starve myself to death till he gives me my right to have a glimpse of his personal life via FB. Either I will get what is my right as his wife, or else I will die trying and he can live with that on his conscience for the rest of his life.&amp;quot; Um, yeah, that&amp;#039;s about as healthy as the ten cookies I downed for lunch today. Only worse, because I&amp;#039;m not going to die from my choice. (At least not tomorrow. There&amp;#039;s always that fun heart attack at my grandkid&amp;#039;s graduation ceremony where I miss the celebratory All-You-Can-Eat Macaroni Grill special due to triple bypass surgery, but I normally eat pretty well, so perhaps we can avoid that scenario. Moving on.) I was hoping this commenter was kidding about the starvation diet. I suggested, in case she wasn&amp;#039;t, that she seriously consider counseling. Her response, &amp;quot;I am doing a &amp;#039;fast unto death&amp;#039; like Mahatma Gandhi did to get what was rightfully ours (India&amp;#039;s independence) from the British. No more fights, no more arguments. I will fight non-violently till the end for my rights to be a part of my husband&amp;#039;s life or else my death will weigh on his conscience forever.&amp;quot; Really? Because unless I have been misinformed all these years, Gandhi didn&amp;#039;t become skin and bones over a woman denying him access to some social network platform. * Note: Here&amp;#039;s where I morph into a card carrying AARP member: WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON WITH SOME PEOPLE!? Please give me hope that some of you women under 30 get the difference between compromise in a difficult marriage and killing yourself over some jerk? Some responders came up with the obvious sentiment, &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s just not into you&amp;quot; or &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s probably cheating if he won&amp;#039;t &amp;#039;friend&amp;#039; you.&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d like to come up with an equally obvious response: FRIEND YOURSELF A PSYCHIATRIST PRONTO. I honestly left that blog post feeling woozy. I have a daughter. She&amp;#039;s growing up in a technological age. Heck, I make my living from it. I&amp;#039;m grateful for the income, the share of ideas, and the amazing connections I have received through the World Wide Web. But at the same time, I also know that my life is not the web. I was brought up around, you know, real people. By the grace of God I learned to tell a good man from a sleezeball. And while my marriage is a far cry from a romance movie, it&amp;#039;s leap years away from starving myself over a Facebook incident. (Rex would actually have to socialize for that to be an issue for me, but you get the idea.) My goal for you all today: Hug some live human beings. Remind your daughters that they deserve a husband who is a real friend, not someone who&amp;#039;s avoiding them online. And if you are having trouble telling the difference between actual life and computer life, just turn me off for a while. If people have called me &amp;quot;nasty looking&amp;quot; and I&amp;#039;ve lived, I can live without your web presence for a few weeks, too. (I might cry a bit, of course, but I would never admit that here. Woops...) "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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