I Like You, I Really Like You

I just got back from a trip to Florida, where I tried to stay away from social media for a couple days. I think it’s healthy to take a break once in a while.
So instead of Twitter and Facebook, I spent my time being disgusted by some woman displaying her neon pink leopard print camel toe at the beachside hamburger hut.
Evidence of my disgust can be found here:
NotPleased
It was tragic really, to be surrounded by palm trees, blue skies and so much natural beauty and still be fixated on that horrid camel toe. I really need to work on looking at the sunny side of life, especially when I’m in the sun.

Anyway, not having checked Facebook for a few days, I did a drive by and liked a bunch of things. It may have seemed disingenuous, liking things in bulk. I went on a liking frenzy. I probably sprained my like thumb. But I meant it: I like you. I really like you.

I like the new deck you just added to your home. I like your puppy even if he pees on the rug. I like your rant about paper cuts. I like that your toddler keeps saying “shit” and you don’t know how to stop him. I like your burlesque show, your roast chicken and your new shoes. I like that you came out to your Grandma and she hugged you. I like that misshapen mug you made in pottery class. I like your anniversary dinner, your divorce party and your baby shower.

And I realized that I like all these things because I like knowing how very different all my friends are. I like the online showcase of so many different kinds of pride. You are more multi-faceted than I could ever imagine. But mostly, I like that we still have a friendship in common, despite being so different.

So I’m going to keep being active with my Facebook like thumb, because damn it, I like that too.

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2 thoughts on “I Like You, I Really Like You

  1. I really like this post. No, I mean I really, really like it. Words can not even express how much I like this post.

    Let’s face it, you are just such a gosh darn, likeable person – it’s hard not to like your posts.

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