Twitter. I loved you.
You introduced me to TNT, and training for my first marathon. I shifted from blogging and commenting to interacting in more efficient ways. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s office responded to my tweet about losing my job in 2009, and they helped me navigate the system. When Michael Jackson died, it was Twitter who gave me the news first.
I had long, lonely days and nights where I could non-stop tweet about anything I want. And, you loved me. You embraced my non-sensical noise and let me ramble on about running, about parenting, about ex husbands and such. During Dodger games, I tweeted from the MLB app, exhibiting getting deeper and deeper into the social Twitter web.
You weren’t like chat rooms, or blogging, or message boards. Oh, I had done them all. Quantum Link, Weight Watchers message boards, Smart People (or something like that…). I had long, lengthy opinions about everything, until you came along.
You, with your 140 character limit. Until I found the Holy Grail of Bit.ly, Tinyurl, etc. Until I found a way around your silly limit. Like most things in my life, I found and broke the rule, and lived outside of even your box.
I entered contests. I retweeted with a vengeance. I met runners galore. I even met my coach on Twitter. Some of my best friends are there…Yet, I abused you Twitter. I had too much fun. It was like going into a pub after a long, hot, hard day, and pounding the bar at 2am wondering how I had stayed so long.
I likened Twitter to a coffee shop. A big hall of table after table, where I could stop and enter a conversation with ease. I often had direct messages with people I should not have been talking to. If Twitter was a coffee shop, we were in our own room, and if you are somebody else’s mate, then I am out of bounds. Toward the end of my Twitter run, I started noticing that I was adding more and more people, but interacting less and less.
Twitter, you were the good friend who introduced me to other good friends. I bashed Facebook in favor of you, and I defended you to the end. I reluctantly joined Facebook because I started dating my out of town Harley Guy. He was a Facebooker, and we stayed connected through that medium. He also joined Twitter, and we professed our love for each other on both sites. I started adding Twitteratti to my Facebook page. Yet, I could not have both worlds. I had to choose.
Most readers of this site know that I can be addicted to anything that God made more than one of. You’ve seen me in my sobriety, to giving up Diet Coke, trying to give up things that I abuse. And, because I’m in a relationship with a sober man, my Twitter behavior simply had to change. But not just for him. For me. For my sobriety. I gave up Twitter to get closer to my God. To who I really am.
No longer was it appropriate for me to DM (direct message) a man. Men friends who had previously talked privately with me, were getting that message loud and clear: I don’t DM with married men any longer. No longer was it appropriate to flirt in the public timeline, or much worse, be suggestive. One day a wife came on to the public timeline, and answered a tweet I sent to her husband, as if to say, “Okay. That’s enough now.” I heard it loud and clear, and started paying attention to my so-called persona.
Don’t get me wrong Twitter. I’m not judging your format, or other people who Tweet. Everyone has their own set of rules. But, because I’m looking for sobriety throughout my life, I simply had to let go. I called a friend from New York as soon as I saw the addiction. I went through my 900+ followers, and lo and behold, the 40 or so that I knew personally were on Facebook. My New York gal pal stayed with me on the phone while I deactiveated my account. Forever.
It’s been 10 days. It didn’t hurt in the beginning. It doesn’t hurt now. If you are looking for me, I’m on Facebook, posting 4x a day at most. I’m liking and poking to death, so yeah…I’ll have to eventually look at that too, but I have a new set of standards as a woman in a relationship, in love with a man who I want to honor.