Myspace.com

Continuing on chronologically in the Week of Social Media, today’s post will be focusing on what some people deem the white trash of digital interaction. The putrid pioneer of spamology. The founder of filth on many 14-inch screens. The demon which shall be known as Myspace.com.

I will submit a formal apology to my readers, as it has appears that my past two posts have been somewhat of a bore to them. Due to complaints, I will try and spice things up for those who actually read this blog.

That means you J. Black Hairpiece.

I take you back to April of 2006, in the beautiful, elegant, tobacco-packed countryside of Richmond, Virginia. I was involved in a 2-year heated relationship at the time, and was told by a resident of that great commonwealth that there was a new trend hitting Al Gore’s invention like a viral outbreak of SARS. You all remember that fiasco don’t you?

VRM P.K.: Sternly sounding like Data from Star Trek. “Have you heard of what people are calling…My Space?”

Swamp Thing: “Nope. Haven’t a clue. What is it?”

VRM P.K.: “My Space.com is a website where people can get on and speak to one another on the Internet. They create a profile for themselves, and interact with each other. Sadly, it has created an avenue for people to be dragged down by prostitution scandals and dirty photographs. I advise you to stay away from it.”

That swift cross jab to the right side of my jaw line was the very first time I had ever heard of Myspace.com. And I was terrified of it. I thought it was the creature living underneath my bed, something that the Sarlac would be intimidated by. It wasn’t until the fall of 2006, did I make any attempts to reach out to this disreputable website, all in the apartment of the infamous VRM Garth Shiftyeyes.

VRM Garth Shiftyeyes: “See the thing is, if you make this profile, then people will get to know you, and they will want to keep in touch with you. See how mine is kind of centered around country music? People who like country can relate to me.”

Swamp Thing: Astonished/Perplexed/WTF look across my face. “Wait, so if I make a profile that’s got Ohio State Buckeyes stuff all over it, then girls will want to go out with me.”

Blank stare from VRM Garth Shifty Eyes: “Uh, yeah. Yeah they will.”

In reality, no. No they won’t. And no, no they didn’t.

For the record, my dating life did not in fact improve by the amount of time that I spent catering and nurturing my Myspace profile. In fact, my relationship with Myspace seemed to be a rocky one over the next couple of years as I tried to increase my friends, send messages back and forth, and be as actively involved with the digital social life as possible. Heck, you could have made me a Myspace Avatar at this point I was so enveloped in the Myspace society. But it was all in vain. It was all, for nothing.

And then there came a day when I just didn’t care anymore about Myspace.com. I had given up the ghost, thrown in the towel, raised the white flag. And one evening as the two of us sat in a back country diner shuffling down undercooked French toast and scrambled eggs, I broke the news to my partner.

Swamp Thing: “It’s not you, it’s me.”

MySpace.com: “Huh?”

Swamp Thing: “Um…I mean, I’m just not ready for a serious relationship you know. I need my space.” (No pun intended)

MySpace.com: “What? What are you saying?”

Swamp Thing: “What I’m saying is… is… that I think we should start seeing other people. There’s this girl named Facebook, that I’m really starting to take an interest in.”

Myspace.com: “So are we… are we through?”

Swamp Thing: “Yeah. I think we should just be friends.”

But friends we never were. And yes, maybe the breakup with Myspace.com wasn’t as intense as I played it out to be. All I remember was a few quick swipes and clicks with a mouse, and she and I were done.

Every once in a while I’ll browse around to see the tacky, worthless screen with a web address. And you know what, I don’t miss the days spent finding old high school friends that I’m never going to talk to again. I don’t miss the hours spent chatting about mindless topics with fellow Buckeye fans. I don’t miss all of the spam pornography e-mailed to my server. I don’t miss any of that one bit. You know why? Because I have Facebook! More on that tomorrow.

Peace out.