Sibling Building, the MLS Cup, and an Insatiable Desire to Be Liked

Last Saturday as the majority of the sports world sat down to watch the various college football championship games I plopped myself down on my couch to watch the MLS Cup (Major League Soccer’s championship game).  By the time the game had progressed to sudden death penalty-kicks, I was sitting cross-legged in wide-eyed amazement on the floor two feet in front of the screen.  When the game was over and my team had won I was overflowing with excitement and I desperately tried to think of who I could possibly call/text/email. The answer, sadly, was no one.   I know not one human being who would care in any way about the winner of the MLS Cup. 

Sure, I could text a friend and force him to pretend to be interested – I am fortunate enough to have friends willing to do that – but is it really that fun when you have to force someone to pretend that they are interested in your hobbies?

As I moved back to the couch to watch the postgame celebration I thought back to nine months ago when I ordered MLS Live – a viewing package that allows you to watch nearly all of the MLS games through a streaming device like your phone, tablet, or Roku.  I mentioned to a friend that I had signed up for this package and his response was, “That is the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard.”  That’s an exact quote.  I saved the email.  His point was simply that it was inconceivable that anyone would watch soccer of his own free will, let alone PAY FOR IT.

I’ve spent the last nine months wondering where my love of professional soccer originated.  Obviously since I know not one person who likes it, it’s not like I have some great family history or childhood memories of watching soccer on TV.  Dad and I weren’t exactly driving down to Estadio Azteca on weekends to watch our favorite team in my formative years.  So why?  Where did it come from?

It came from nowhere.  It came from me.  It came from a pure love of the game and the enjoyment I get from watching it.  Many sports fans like a game, or a team, because it represents some link to happy childhood memories.  Watching Steelers games with Dad.  Going to a Yankees game with Grandpa.  Whatever, you get the point.  Me and soccer?  I just like it.

But, oh if only soccer were my lone unusual entertainment preference.  I tend to walk the narrow path when it comes to TV shows, books, and music, and just about everything else you can think of.  Think I’m exaggerating?  OK, my favorite TV Show is Inspector Lewis and my favorite musician/songwriter is James McMurtry.  Not exactly mainstream tastes, is it?

I watch Inspector Lewis by myself when everyone else in the house has gone to bed, and I listen to McMurtry on my iPod when I’m alone.  I don’t know anyone who has even heard of this show or this musician, let alone  who likes them.

I don’t, however, want to give the impression that I’m some mysterious loner who marches to the beat of his own drummer and considers himself too good for popular culture.  I read Stephen King (350 million books sold) and I listen to Van Halen (96.5 million albums sold).  So no, I’m exactly the poster boy of the counterculture rebel.

But for the most part, my day-to-day life involves things you’ve never heard of.  And when I want to talk about the MLS Cup, the latest episode of Inspector Lewis, or James McMurtry’s newest song, I find myself having a conversation with the fat face in the mirror.  Sometimes the cat, but I can tell his interest is only half-hearted at best.

So, why is this?  How did this happen?  I am firmly convinced that my “unique” tastes are a direct result of being an only child.  Without the influence of siblings I was left alone to pick and choose what I liked and didn’t like.  I’m a father of three now, and I see this even clearer than before I had kids.  I see my 4-year old asking for Batman toys for Christmas because his older brother is REALLY into Batman.  I didn’t have an older brother influencing my tastes and I didn’t have to share my TV or radio with other kids.  I made up my own mind about what I liked from the time I was old enough to talk.

Now that I’m a 42 year old, I find that my tastes are in line with almost no one I know.  Sometimes it’s frustrating, but I’m not going to pretend that I like The Voice, Duck Dynasty, or Dancing with the Stars just to fit in.  There’s a saying within Catholic culture, “Be in the world, not of it.”  That fits my lifestyle, even if I lived that way long before I went around quoting Catholic culture.

Last March (right about the time I ordered the MLS Live package) I found myself in my back yard with a distant Canadian cousin discussing all of the important things in life.  As the night wore on, and the empty bottles stacked up, he posed the question of the year.  He asked me what had caused me to reach out to try to forge a relationship with my Canadian cousins (himself specifically) over twenty years ago.  And he wanted to know why I had been so committed to keeping those relationships in tact all of these years later.

At the time I mumbled something about staying in touch with my roots, but I’m sure my answer was somewhat incoherent.  Now that I’ve had nine months to ponder it (he probably has no idea that I’ve thought about it daily since he asked it) I finally have an answer.  I was sibling-building.  I was jealous of those who had brothers and sisters, so I was reaching out across national borders to find some fake siblings of my own.

And when I examine my own history with friends and relatives here in America I can see a sad pattern of failed sibling-building emerge.  I have a history of desperately, and often pathetically, trying to find a meaningful relationship with friends and cousins over the years and meeting with failure at every venture.  And quite frankly, I made a damn fool out of myself in the process.

I married well, and I don’t have a history of bad relationships with women, but oh man do I have a history of bad attempts at sibling-building.  There’s a disturbing trend of me latching on to acquaintances and relatives who simply show no desire in being a loyal friend, let alone a fabricated sibling. 

Even now I find myself tempted to interact with people who have treated my poorly in the past.  Maybe that’s not sibling-building as much as it’s an insatiable desire to be liked.  But even if it’s the latter, I still say my history as an only child factors heavily into it.

When I was very young I grew up with a cousin who was seven months older than me.  We saw each other daily in the summers and even when school was in session my mother would babysit him in the afternoons.  We spent holidays together and he went on vacations with us.  When we were really young, Santa Claus would deliver his presents to our house.  He would even come with me and my dad on Father-and-Son campouts with the Florida National Guard.  I can truly say he was as close a thing to having an actual sibling as I’ve ever experienced.

Twenty five years ago this month, shortly after he had just turned 18, he died in a house fire.  It would be melodramatic for me to say I lost my best friend on December 11, 1988, because truthfully we had been drifting apart for many years prior.  He wasn’t a REAL sibling after all, and his life had begun to go in a different direction than mine by the time we were in our early teens.  I lived in a new subdivision with both of my parents, and he was raised by a single mother in a neighborhood that was dangerous and drug-infested even thirty years ago.  The last time I saw him was in the summer of 1988 in a chance encounter at the Aladdin’s Castle game room in Normandy Mall.  The mall, just like Kenny, is long gone now and relegated to a special corner of my memory.

Sometimes when I really allow myself to think about it, the idea of having an actual sibling is kind of creepy.  From my world view there is only one combination of Hale and Sauls, and Vincent be thy name.  I can’t even totally fathom another human being having the same parents as I do.  It seems weird and creepy and maybe even a little bit wrong somehow.

In one of my international sibling-building forays I was lucky enough to stumble upon a kindred spirit.  I was able to manufacture a sibling out of a distant cousin who wound up being someone who to this day knows me better than just about anyone else.  My pretend sibling is female and six or seven years younger than me – honestly not who I would have thought would fill the role.  Now, when I refer to this person as a pretend sibling, you need to understand something: for years I told people I had a sister.  Literally.  I know, that’s pathetic and a sign of a significant emotional instability.   But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you – I have always REALLY wanted a sibling.

My weird insistence on telling people I had a sister did lead to one funny story.  I was talking to some friends at work in the late 1990’s when the subject of being an only child came up.  One of the participants in this conversation said, “Yeah, they’re WEIRD.  They never learned how to share and they’re just not well adjusted.”  When I told her that I was an only child, and that my sister was of the manufactured variety, she was obviously embarrassed.  And probably a bit concerned for my emotional health.

There’s a concept in product development where the analogy of grenades and missiles is used.  Grenades are thrown hoping they hit something, whereas missiles are guided specifically to a precise target.  When I engaged in sibling-building all those years ago, I was definitely just lobbing grenades.  I sought a sibling-like friendship with neighbors, classmates, first cousins in Jacksonville, and distant cousins in Canada.

My pretend Canadian sister has filled this role for well over 20 years now and I couldn’t be happier about it.  In a very real way, all of those grenades lobbed across the continent are quite embarrassing in hindsight.  I basically made a fool out of myself to people who had their own lives to lead and had no interest in forming this fake siblinghood with me.  But, because I was actually able to find someone who has played an important role in my life – even if I only do get to see her once every few years – it was all worth it.  Would I suffer the humiliation of all of those grenades that never made contact all over again if it meant hitting this one target?  Absolutely.  No hesitation.

As the years, and decades, have rolled past I’ve seen my share of people weave in and out of my life.  Friends that I called brothers have vanished into thin air.  Coworkers that I seemingly have nothing in common with have become lifelong friends.  But I’ve reached a point in my life now where I can finally put an end to the sibling-building.  I am very comfortable with who I am now, and I know that I am blessed mightily with a few good friends who have stood the test of time.  And those few carelessly tossed grenades across the Canadian border have yielded special friendships with some very special cousins – including the aforementioned pretend sister, plus the one who started all of this soul-searching with his simple question in my backyard last March.

Part of the maturation process involves accepting things that you cannot change.  I now accept that I won’t have any REAL siblings.  And I won’t ever be a REAL uncle.  I have also accepted that I can’t do anything to erase the humiliation of those sibling-building grenades that never made contact.  It is what it is, and it’s astoundingly unhealthy to dwell on unfortunate past actions.

Now that I have my own kids it’s kind of like I’ve created my own allies in life.  Heck, some of them even look a little bit like me.  Just this past week one of them paused briefly to glance at the James McMurtry video I was watching on YouTube.  There’s hope after all.

I always like to end with a video, so here's one of my favorite songs of all time - Levelland by James McMurtry.  And while I don't know for sure, I'd be willing to bet this song is about an only child.

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On Loyalty

A coworker recently asked, “Are you still a Marlins fan?”  With baseball’s Spring Training in full swing, it was a normal question to ask, and one that would seem to require a simple yes/no answer.  But I just stood there for what felt like an eternity – completely incapable of answering the question. 

I’ve been a fan of the team formerly known as the Florida Marlins for twenty years now.  I remember sitting in an 18 foot camper (long story) in 1993 watching a grainy broadcast of the first pitch in Marlins history.  I’ve been a devoted and loyal fan ever since.  In fact, I’ve been a Marlin since many of their current players were in diapers.

So why would I hesitate to answer if I’m still a fan?  Simply put, because the Marlins have not reciprocated the loyalty that I have shown towards them for two decades now.  Every other year the team dumps its talented, higly-compensated players and restocks the roster with lower-salaried, bargain basement “prospects.”  This offseason was no different as the team transferred the top players north of the border to Toronto – just days after one player (Jose Reyes) was told by the team owner to buy a house in Miami because he was NEVER going to be traded.  The Marlins have no loyalty to their players or the fans, and that makes maintaining loyalty to them a challenge.

But I hold myself to a higher standard than the Marlins lying, disloyal ownership. Or maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.  Either way, I’m still a Marlins fan.  Even if the guy who asked me this has long since stopped waiting for my reply.

But truthfully, this non-reciprocated loyalty is not relegated strictly to the Miami Marlins.  In fact, loyalty in any form is extremely uncommon in professional sports.  Most teams have no loyalty to their players (just ask Peyton Manning about the team he took the Super Bowl).  Additionally, players have no loyalty to their teams (have you watched the NFL’s free agency period this week?)  And, more often than not, teams have little to no loyalty to their fans or host cities.  Relocation (aka Franchise Free Agency) is almost commonplace now – especially in hockey.   The professional hockey team from Winnipeg relocated to Phoenix in 1996, but then years later the team from Atlanta relocated to Winnipeg.  This was, of course, after the prior Atlanta franchise packed up and moved to Calgary.

But the idea of loyalty extends to all areas of life – many that are so much more important than that of spectator sports.  Many years ago I attended the baptism of a friend’s nephew on a Saturday afternoon.  Someone at the ceremony mentioned they were surprised to see a single 20-something man at a baptism on a Saturday – especially when it wasn’t even his own family.  My friend replied with four simple words: “like an old dog.”  His point was simple: Vince is loyal.  I took it as a great compliment, and I still remember his words nearly 20 years later.

The funny thing is, I didn’t even consider doing anything else on the day of the baptism.  And looking back I don’t really think of it as some grand display of loyalty.  To me it was just doing what you’re supposed to do. 

I’ve actually had one strange and memorable accusation of disloyalty.  It came from someone who was surprised that I am a fan of the football team from my alma mater, and not of the University of Florida.  I was called a traitor for not being a Gator fan.  It wasn’t said with anger, but it was still odd. Let that sink in: I was accused of being disloyal, because I had loyalty to the school I attended.  The irony in that makes my brain ache.

But I’m no saint and I certainly don’t wish to give the impression that I’m the anointed poster boy of loyalty.  The sad fact is that I, like most, have some instances of shameful disloyalty in my past.  I actually skipped the baptism of another friend’s child just because I didn’t approve of his religious affiliation.  Let me put that another way – I thought he was a member of a loony-bin wacko church and I wanted nothing to do with it.  But he was a good and loyal friend, and I know now that I should have attended the ceremony.  I regret not going, and I still think about it sometimes.

Sadly, once you’ve committed one act of disloyalty, it’s hard to shake the reputation.  Think about someone you really trusted at some point who turned on you – someone who gossiped about you or stabbed you in the back.  Maybe you still hold the grudge or maybe you were able to forgive them in time.  But even if you did, I bet you never felt the same way about them again.  And I’m sure those who’ve endured my acts of disloyalty haven’t forgotten my transgressions.  I know that I sure haven’t.

Remaining loyal gets tricky when you’re faced with conflicting loyalties.  I’m not talking about the simple Tim Tebow’s team is playing the Jaguars type of conflict, but much more important situations.  Life situations.  The kind of dire situation such as when your loyalty is torn between your best friend and your spouse.  Or a friend and a sibling.  Or a parent and a spouse.  You get the point.  Those are the types of no-win situations where you’re probably going to be branded as disloyal  no matter which side you choose.

Sometimes the conflict doesn’t involve loyalty to a person at all – sometimes it’s even more complex than that.  I fight the fight of choosing between my loyalty to my friends and my loyalty to my religious faith almost daily.  What can I do when a friend (or even family member) openly mocks my faith?  Do I just idly sit by and say nothing?  Do I politely tell them to keep their big mouth shut?  Do I severe the relationship and close myself off to only associating with those who think like I do?  What a boring existence that would be.  Yet, my loyalty to my faith, to my God, won’t allow me to just sit by grinning like an inbred hillbilly while my beliefs are mocked.

I have a religious blog where an in-depth discussion on loyalty to one’s faith would be more appropriate, so I won’t delve too deeply into the subject here.  But I’ll just say that it’s been a personal struggle for years, and one that has reached its apex in the past month – a month that saw me severe ties with someone I’ve known for over twenty-five years.  Bottom line:  for me personally loyalty to my faith trumps all.  But there’s nothing all that rewarding about severing ties with old friends.  Nobody ever said loyalty was easy.

In my experience I have found that loyalty is incredibly important in male relationships.  One could even say it’s the cornerstone of any lasting male friendship.  When I was in high school we had a saying: “A friend will help you move, but a best friend will help you move a body.”  Fortunately, I never had to make that frantic 2am call, but I was lucky enough to have a few friends that I knew would show up with shovel in-hand if I did.  Some of them still would.

Two weeks ago, one of those high school buddies took three hours out of his Saturday morning (and probably spent over $10 in gas) to come to my daughter’s Little League baseball game.  That’s loyalty.  That’s why some friendships have been in place for two and a half decades.  But if you were to ask him I’m sure he’d say that he was just doing what you’re supposed to do. 

So is it worth it?  Is it worth the time and effort that remaining loyal demands?  Couldn’t we just be like the millionaire athletes or billionaire owners who get richer every year despite exhibiting even a shred of loyalty to anyone or anything? 

Loyalty to friends and family will inevitably pay dividends.  Maybe 26 years down the line someone will show up at your daughter’s baseball game on a Saturday morning.

And loyalty to a particularly faith?  Well I guess we won’t know that one until after our life has ended. 

Loyalty to sports teams?  Oh those abusive, condescending, disloyal sports teams.  I guess if my Marlins are ever even slightly relevant again I can say, “I’ve been a fan since 1993” and maybe somebody will be impressed.  I guess.

One final note.  At the beginning of this blog entry I shared an anecdote about attending a baptism on a Saturday afternoon while I was in my 20’s.   The mother of the child who was being baptized that day had another baby last month.  She named her newborn Vincent.  Loyalty does pay off. 

Like an old dog.  The words still sound wonderful to my ears.

 

 

 

 

 

Manning Finds the Colts Disloyalty Too Much to Handle

 

On Integrity

I recently found myself in the unenviable position of trying to explain integrity to a ten year old.  The ten year old in question, my oldest son, was talking about the Star Wars movies (as he does morning, noon, and night) when the question came up.  I made the comment that Star Wars creator George Lucas “has a great imagination, is a good storyteller, but can’t write dialogue and he lacks integrity.”  As I should have anticipated, I was then was faced with the challenge of trying to explain the complex concept of integrity.

And it is complex. 

In general words like morals and ethics and character and honesty come up while trying to define integrity.  But how do you really explain that to a ten year old?

Since our conversation revolved around the Star Wars franchise, I went to the often lamented fact that Lucas used cute little alien teddy bears in his 1983 film Return of the Jedi for no reason other than merchandise sales.  I tried to explain to him that if Lucas had integrity, maybe one could even say “artistic integrity,” he would have focused more on completing the grand, arching story of his ground-breaking trilogy than on selling teddy bears.

The bottom line, I explained to my son, was that Lucas allowed himself to be corrupted by the money.  As Glen Frey once said, “It’s the lure of easy money; it’s got a very strong appeal.”

In one of the strange coincidences of life that I’ve now come to accept as commonplace, it was only a few weeks after our conversation that it was announced that Lucas had sold the rights to the Star Wars franchise for over $4 billion.  Set, match, game to Mr. Hale.

Next I’d like to spend some time talking about the politicians of the past fifty years who have shown integrity.       

OK.

Finally I’d like to mention integrity in sports.  And I do need to make the distinction between integrity and just being a nice guy.  There are, believe it or not, a few nice guys in professional and college sports.  There are the guys who go out of their way to interact with fans and do a pretty decent job of staying out of trouble.  That’s not what I’m talking about.  That’s not what I wish to impart to my childen.  As I mentioned earlier, integrity involves morals, ethics, character, and honesty.

One needs look no further than the two most successful coaches in college football history to see a striking distinction in integrity.  Exhibit A: Bobby Bowden.  On numerous occasions Bowden made it known that his main purpose as the head football coach at Florida State University was not to prepare his players for the NFL.  Not even was it to bring national championships to Tallahassee.  According to Bowden, his main goal was to create young men of character; to impact their lives in a positive manner.  Bowden considered himself to be a successful coach if his players left his program better than when he first met them.

On the flipside is the late Joe Paterno.  Even if you’re not a football fan you’ve probably heard the nauseating details of the child sex abuse scandals at Penn State under Paterno’s regime.  While no one may ever fully know to what extent Paterno had knowledge of the abuse, it seems relatively obvious that he was at least aware that something was happening.  I don’t wish to further sully the reputation of dead man, so I’ll just end by saying that “integrity” is likely not a word that will be used to remember him.

In the world of popular music, the word integrity is often used, but almost never really present.  Even if a musician creates quality music early in his career, the odds are that he’ll later succumb to the pressure for continued album sales by trying to alter his music to match the current flavor of the day.  In my teenage years we called it “selling out.”  As in, “Did you hear Metallica’s new song? Man they really sold out.”

The irony is that the musicians who don’t remain true to the quality music that brought them success in the beginning end up alienating their true fans and eventually sabotaging their careers.  There’s a reason Bruce Springsteen is still selling albums forty years later – he never tried to make disco, hair metal, or grunge. 

For non-celebrities the loss of integrity may not be as visible, but it is just as prevalent.  In nearly every little nook and cranny of society someone is having an affair, cheating on his taxes, or falsifying his timecard without giving it a second thought.  Integrity is such a foreign concept in 2013 that people routinely openly BRAG about their misdoings.  On a near-daily basis I hear tales of the abuse of overtime, stolen pallets of sod from construction sites, and food stuffed into purses at buffets – just to name a few.

In nearly every case the lack of integrity is softened by the self-delusion of “sticking it to the man.” 

-          They don’t appreciate me at work, so I’m going to come in for overtime but go to the gym instead. 

-          They charge too much for this buffet, so I’m shoving a few pieces of pizza in my purse. 

-          If I have to pay $4 for a hamburger, we’re going to buy one Coke and split it between the three of us.

Stealing is still stealing; cheating is still cheating; and dishonesty is still dishonesty – no matter what kind of spin you may want to put on it.  And while it’s human nature to hold our celebrities to a higher standard than we hold ourselves, deep down we know when our integrity has been compromised.  Those who are screaming the loudest about former NFL star Dan Marino’s recently revealed infidelity are very likely the ones who have done far worse.  In our ever increasingly secular society, the concept of “throwing the first stone” is completely foreign to most.

So, did my lesson on integrity have any impact on my son?  I have no idea.  If you’re a parent, you know how that goes.  Repeat, Reinforce, Restate, Repeat.  I likely won’t really know if I’ve adequately done my job as a parent until he’s an adult and I see what kind of man he becomes.  Only then will I be able to see if he’s stealing sod, or stuffing his wife’s purse full of greasy buffet food.

My son loves to write (wonder where he got that from?) and his dream is to be a filmmaker.   That’s why he’s so interested in George Lucas.  And it would be a literal dream come true for me as a parent to see his goal of making films come to fruition.  But I’m saying this right now, if he makes a science fiction film with teddy bears – not only will I not be seeing it, but I will be disowning him too.

WARNING: This video contains alien teddy bears dancing and singing. 

View at your own risk.

Vince on Twitter

e-Rejection

Rejection – it’s one of the worst experiences of the human condition.  If you’ve never felt the blistering sting of rejection you’re either an emotionless android or… or… well, there is no “or.”  Every human being has been rejected many, many times over his/her existence.  And if that rejection didn’t hurt, then you need to turn in your Humanity Card, because you’re no longer one of us.

Rejection comes in many forms, and it’s especially commonplace in the all-too-brutal childhood years.  Children can routinely be rejected dozens of times in a single day.   Some mornings parents are openly excited to push their kids into someone else’s care for the day.  Sometimes the cool kids on the bus refuse to sit next to the not-so-cool kids.  Somebody has to be the last one picked for kickball. 

Lord knows I had my share of rejections as a kid.  I remember one specific time in the 7^th or 8^th grade we were choosing teams to play flag football.  The selection process ended with me still standing there while everyone just turned away to start the game.  Translation: I wasn’t picked.  At all.  Both teams would rather be a man-down than have me on their side.  Forget that fact that at the time I was a few years into playing Pop Warner football, so it’s wasn’t exactly like I had never gripped a football before.  But I’m not bitter.  In fact for almost thirty years now I’ve thought about it every day and congratulated myself profusely for not being bitter at all.

And while the number of rejections may decrease in adulthood, the sting can be just as painful.  Sometimes even worse.   Getting passed over for promotions at work, rejected by the opposite sex, and struggling to find meaningful friendships can cause even more anxiety than standing in that ever-dwindling kickball selection lineup.  The sad truth is that the really cool kids in school with their really cool friends in their really cool cliques grow up to be really cool adults with really cool adult friends in really cool adult cliques.

As an adult, oh yeah I’ve seen rejection.  Women?  More rejections that I can count.  Promotions?  Don’t get me started on that or I’ll go into a profanity-laden tirade that I’d surely regret later on.  Friends, well, I’ve actually been pretty lucky there.

The explosion of social media over the past few years has taken the experience of rejection to new levels.  Levels I never could have imagined that day in the early 80s as I stood there hoping against hope to be picked for the flag football game (I’m still not bitter).  Kids and adults have taken to social media in unprecedented numbers.  There are over a billion members on Facebook.  Think about it for minute, how many people do you know who aren’t on Facebook?  I would run out of names before I ran out of fingers to count on if I tried to name the ones I know.

So now we have this easy, convenient, impersonal way to reject others.  Woo-hoo! 

The simplest rejection is the ignored friend request.  You send someone a request to connect on Facebook and they simply ignore it.  Sometimes it’s no big deal, sometimes it’s baffling.  I had an experience like this a few years back that would fall under the baffling category.  There was a very nice family that went to our church and their son was also in my daughter’s class at school.  My daughter is special needs, and sometimes it just seems easier to interact with other parents of special needs kids.  It’s just more comfortable.  There’s just this implied sense of understanding and camaraderie that comes from shared experiences.  And the fact that they attended our church?  Bonus!  I sent friend requests to both parents and waited. And waited.  And waited.  Nothing.  Ever.

The first thing I did was check to see how many friends each had.  Obviously if they only had 30 or 40 friends, well that would make sense.  That would mean that they only connected with family and close friends.  Well, guess what?  They both had over 200.  Hmm.  To this day I still have no idea why they didn’t accept the friend requests.  I just went on smiling and pretending every time I saw them – which was often.  Is it devastating that a couple of virtual strangers ignored my friend requests?  Nah.  Is it a rejection?  Yep.

The biggest e-rejection of all has to be the unfriend on Facebook – the act of severing a once connected friendship.  More than the ignored friend request, the unfriend begs the question what did I do wrong?  Was it politics, religion, sports, over-posting? 

I’ve been unfriended by people who represent every conceivable definition of the word friend.  I’ve been unfriended by coworkers, ex-coworkers, friends of my mother, mothers of my friends, people I’ve known 6 months, and people I’ve known 26 years.  Sometimes I’m amused and wonder what I did to offend them; other times I feel that sting of rejection and wonder just what the hell I did to offend them.

For me the moment of discovery is always the same.  I’m on someone’s page and suddenly realize a friend we should have in common is no longer there.  For example:  I’m friends with Tim and Tom and one day I’m on Tim’s page and I see the section that lists the friends we have in common and Tom isn’t there.  That’s the uh-oh moment.  That’s the moment you realize you’ve been dropped.  You’ve been defriended.  Unfriended.   Rejected.

That’s the thing about the unexpected unfriending – there’s no room for misinterpretation.  If you’re dropped by someone who still keeps an active Facebook account the message is clear – I don’t like you anymore.  Ten years ago if you tired of someone’s friendship you could just kind of let it fade away quietly into the night.  Now it’s as final as deleting a file in Excel.  It’s gone.  You’re gone.  The friendship is over.

Facebook, and other forms of social media, are wonderful technological advancements that have impacted the vast majority of civilization.  I once heard it described this way: “Facebook changed the culture of the world.”  And it did.  I’m now able to stay in contact with friends and family members that otherwise may have drifted away.  I’ve reconnected with friends from high school that I hadn’t interacted with in any way since the day I graduated nearly 24 years ago.  I’ve even discovered family I didn’t know I had and developed new friendships that never would have been possible outside of Facebook.

But the rise of social media has also opened the door to the new and equally damaging forms of rejection I detailed above.  They may be e-rejections, but they are real rejections.

So what is one supposed to do?  Just pretend he doesn’t care?  Most anyone who claims, “I just don’t care what others think about me” is probably lying.   If you really didn’t care you wouldn’t feel the need to proclaim it.  “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” some really smart British guy once wrote.  So after reading this, please don’t tell me that you just don’t care about rejections.  Unless, of course, you’re an emotionless android. 

I just hope someone doesn’t read this and then decide to unfriend me because of it…

Vince on Twitter

Cyring in the Rain

What I sometimes do after being unfriended