Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Happily ever after – just not on Facebook, okay?

You don't have to spend too much time on Livia Dittmer's Facebook page to know that she's happily married.

In her profile picture, the pretty brunette is smiling broadly as her husband, Mark, plants a kiss on her dimpled cheek. Her relationship status lists her as “Married to Mark Dittmer.” Her most recent Facebook album is a catalogue of her wedding photos.

When Ms. Dittmer, a 22-year-old Kitchener, Ont., resident, posted a status update two weeks ago that she missed her husband (who is studying in San Francisco for a semester), she said she received sympathetic messages from her friends.

But not everyone in the Facebook sphere takes kindly to these sorts of digital displays of affection.

Many singles are none too thrilled by the public declarations of love, lust or infatuation from married or engaged friends that appear on their news feeds.

The most extreme proclamations have been compiled at STFU, Marrieds – a wildly popular user-submitted blog that posts a few screen grabs each day of gushy status updates, you're-prettier/no- you're -prettier wall-to-walls, and exchanges that range from baby talk to dirty talk between couples.

While the singles accuse the marrieds of being oversharing braggarts, the marrieds affirm that they can't contain their happiness and suggest their detractors are sulky singles.

When Ms. Dittmer got hitched at 21, some friends suggested she rushed into marriage too quickly. So she partly talks about how much she loves Mr. Dittmer in her Facebook status updates to reassure others.

“I kind of feel a responsibility to people to let them know that everything's still wonderful between us,” she says.

It's exactly this kind of gushing that gets under Andrea Albeanu's skin. When the 23-year-old Orange County, Calif., resident noticed many of her married friends trilling on about how great their husbands were over Facebook, she created STFU, Marrieds.

She says the Internet has allowed couples who might not be so affectionate and lovey-dovey in person to unleash their passion online.

“It's because there's no one in front of them to scowl or give them a reaction,” she says.

Bella DePaulo, a Santa Barbara, Calif.,-based psychologist and author of Singled Out – a book that rebuts stereotypes about singles, said the romantic exchanges on the site are like public kissing or hand-holding, but highly amplified.

“To singles, what they're trying to say is, ‘Look at what I have that you don't.' It's smug.”

Since Erin McGuey, 23, got engaged to her boyfriend Chris Glazier in March, she has avoided talking about her upcoming nuptials on Facebook – for the most part. Last week, she slipped up and she updated her status: “in one year I will be Mrs. Glazier :)”

“I was really excited!” Ms. McGuey, a government communications adviser in Ottawa, says with a sheepish giggle. “That's my cop-out.”

The only other time she has wandered into the realm of schmoopy, she says, was earlier this summer, when Mr. Glazier was working up north for three weeks. The two traded comments of “you are my favourite” and “You're cute,” among others, on each other's walls.

But the really gushy stuff is saved for more private modes of communication, she says.

Less discreet are Kirk Anderson's newlywed friends Caleb and Lauren. Mr. Anderson, who lives in Washington, said the pair aren't very coupley in person, but on Facebook they are over the top in their “mutual narcissism.”

He submitted their wall-to-wall to STFU, Marrieds.

“You're my best friend, my lover, my confidant, my inspiration,” writes Lauren in one message. “You are stunning, and the absolutely perfect wife for me,” Caleb replies.

Mr. Anderson is single, but says even his married friends share his distaste for Caleb and Lauren's public exchanges.

“It causes people to recoil regardless of their relationship status,” said Mr. Anderson.

Ms. Albeanu says since launching STFU, Marrieds, she's faced accusations that she's a jealous single. “It's not because I'm bitter – it's irritating to anybody who has any sense of propriety,” she said.

Los Angeles-based relationship psychologist Yvonne Thomas isn't convinced.
“If they really don't want to be in a relationship, it wouldn't get to them,” Dr. Thomas says. “To find the site and then take the effort of cutting and pasting – come on!”

Ms. Dittmer says her friends have never given her a hard time – digitally, or in person – for saccharine Facebook posts – because they come from a genuine place. “It's because I miss him so much and love him so much I want to let the world know a little bit,” she said.

Rules of engagement
Worried you're a smug married online? Avoid these giveaways:
  • A self-taken profile picture of the two of you mid-smooch.
  • Status updates that refer to your “husband/wife,” “hubby/wifey,” “fiancĂ©/fiancĂ©e” or “lover” accompanied by the words “best,” “perfect” or “adore.”
  • Honeymoon or vacation photo albums where landmarks or tourist traps are specks in the background, with your grinning faces in the foreground.
  • Status updates that refer to being depressed or lonely when your partner is gone – even just for the weekend.
  • Wall-to-wall compliment-fests.

Dakshana Bascaramurty, The Globe & Mail

3 comments:

  1. People can post whatever they like on their facebook pages. If you don't want to read it, then don't be 'friends' with them or get off facebook.

    ReplyDelete
  2. i agree with the person that commented above. if you don't like reading a certain person's posts there are ways to block that person from your feed or you can get rid of them as a friend altogether.

    still, i thought this article was kind of interesting, in terms of how fb makes couples who act quite cool/casual toward each other in person become uncharacteristically mushy online.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I find the "rules of engagement" ridiculous. Are there similar "rules of singledom"? (And I am single)

    ReplyDelete

Thirty and *gasp* single

It started about five years ago. Everyone – and we mean EVERYONE – got married. Being in a university sorority meant we knew a lot of women – some as close friends, some as acquaintances and some simply as recurring names in the endless stream of gossip that permeated our lives as part of the so-called “Greek system.” Back then we were like all the other girls – crushing, flirting, dating, crying, begging, breaking up, getting back together, falling in and out of love and, from time to time, daring to dream of our future weddings. What would the dress look like? How many bridesmaids would we have? And – most importantly – who would the groom be? We were all travelling the same path at that time; all puzzling over the complexities and emotions of “being in a relationship;” all wondering (and worrying) – when would that wonderful, white day, with its “I dos” and promises of everlasting love and happiness, come?

And then we came to that big, fat intersection. You know the one. You can either take a right, hit cruise-control and coast down scenic Wedding Way, where the sun shines and the birds sing and all the floral arrangements match the place settings or hang a left, shift into four-wheel drive and do your darndest to navigate Lonely Lane, a rocky, winding, unpredictable route fraught with potholes, landmines and seats at the singles’ table (it’s the one at the back of the room, in case you didn't know). Read more.