“We thought you knew.”
“How the heck could I know that? I never see you.”
Blank stare. With a splash of pity.
I know what’s going on with my siblings and mom and daughters because we actually talk to each other. With words coming out one mouth and into the other ear.
I know what’s going on with relative strangers, aka Followers, on Twitter because we tell each other stuff with our fingers and we often respond the same way. From your fingers to my eyes and vice versa.
But there’s a gaping chasm in my knowledge about what’s going on with my friends. It’s awkward when we get together and everyone knows everyone else’s business. They mention things I never heard about. They assume I heard about it all. I feel left out that nobody told me. And they seem enthralled to learn my news. I finally found out why: my news is new.
In a conversation with a friend at lunch I asked, “How is everyone? Will? Kevin? Jing?”
In the news, delivered with scrunched eyebrows as she wondered why I know nothing, at the same time that I wondered how the heck she knew everything and why doesn’t anybody tell me anything, she revealed exciting morsels like:
“Will and Maria had twin boys last month.”
What!? I didn’t know they were pregnant!
“Kevin and Rachel will have a baby girl next month.”
Kevin and Will as dads? Holy crapola! I need to get crocheting!
When I was little, nobody told me anything because they’d told everything to my 11-month-older sister and their sleep-deprived stupor blocked the fact that Laura wasn’t filled in. I’m used to living this way, a step behind. I’ve been doing it for half-a-freakin’-century. But now it’s like a conspiracy. EVERYBODY knows what’s going on. I know absolutely nothing. Less than nothing. I know negative news.
This is bad.
My friend filled me in when she revealed her source. She admitted that nobody told her anything either. She found out all of the news by a popular form of approved social stalking called Facebook. With Facebook, you never have to talk to ANYONE and you get all the scoop on EVERYONE.
As I’m not a natural gossip, Facebook is not attractive to me. It makes me twitch a little. But knowing nothing produces a flavor-free life. It might be time to dive into the Facebook pool. I think I’ll need my swimmies.