Facebook wants to know me better. “Decide what happens to your account after you pass away.” Choose a friend. Your Legacy Contact.
Too much pressure for a Friday morning. I go back to sleep.
I update my status:
remember me, not by my face / nor smile nor voice nor traits /
sit by a window, sip some tea / and read my Facebook updates
Three Likes; one Love; one Sad.
One comment. Mom has posted a GIF (again). “I’M A SAAAAAAAD PANDA.”
I need to block Mom. Hashtag Friday Feeling.
Ahmed has pressed snooze for the third time. I switch off the AC.
Five Likes; three Love; two Sad. One more comment. “Let’s make you famous.”
I archive my post.
We are in the park. Ahmed is grumpy. “I am late for work!”
“Do you love me or not!”
“Fine! Give me your left profile!”
I check the LCD. There’s lipstick on my teeth. “Why couldn’t you see that, Ahmed?”
“I’m late for work!”
I lick my teeth clean. Cheese!
This picture is better. The right mix of squinch and smile. I blow Ahmed a kiss.
Google says that the best time to post a Profile Picture is between 1 and 3. Rubbish. I upload the photo.
General Account Settings
“Choose someone to look after your account after you pass away.”
Notifications. Five Likes; three Love; one Wow. One comment. “Love you!” It’s Mom.
Your Legacy Settings
I type Ahmed’s name. Add. Automated email. “Since you know me well and I trust you, I chose you. Please let me know if you want to talk about this.”
The picture is a hit. Fifty-seven Likes; twenty-nine Loves; ten Wows.
Ahmed has not replied.
I call Ahmed. He’s not answering. I have ten more Likes.
I check the news.
The Prime Minister addresses the UN General Assembly. Brexit talks resume amid growing EU gloom. Greta Thunberg is done with making friends.
I check my Settings.
Ahmed will be able to accept friend requests, manage tribute posts, delete my account. He won’t be able to post as me or use Messenger.
I wonder who his Legacy Contact is. Does he have one?
I have two hundred reactions. The comments are getting boring. Beautiful! Gorgeous! Lovely! I press Love on them all.
Ahmed needs to stop liking his ex’s pictures. And I wasn’t part of his endowment policy. He had nominated his mother.
But he had bought the policy before we had met. And his ex looks like a dumpling now.
Ahmed calls. Says he was in a meeting. I ask him if he has read my mail. He laughs and calls me silly. I ask him to unfriend his girlfriend. “Ex-girlfriend,” he corrects me. Unfriend her, I tell him. He calls me silly again. Says he needs to go. Another meeting.
“You are silly, and your meetings are silly!”
“Love you!” Click.
Hundred and thirty-two Likes; eighty-seven Loves; sixteen Wows. I thank everyone.
Your Facebook Information > Deactivation and Deletion
“If you want to take a break from Facebook, you can deactivate your account.”
This is temporary. I’ll be back.
Three o’clock on a Friday afternoon. I am sitting by my window, sipping tea.