Today's Post is Guest Authored by the very funny Justin Gawel .  

Fine.  Just go.  I take back every virtual thing I ever virtually felt towards you.  You know this is such typical you; try to give me a good poking one day and sever all ties the next.  I thought what we had something special; I thought this was about commitment and building an impersonal Internet friendship together. 

I guess we can share custody of our mutual friends; you can have them during the week, since I still want a career—but I get to have them on the weekends and every other Christmas.

It’s been real, or fake, rather.   Regardless, I’m glad you’re out of my Facebook life and I’m especially delighted you won’t be leaving me birthday posts on my wall like we’re totes BFFs IRL.  Good riddance to bad rubbish, it was always creepy when you’d post on my wall on my birthday anyways, hence, my lack of reciprocated happy birthday.  I thought it was weird because if I haven’t seen you in three years you have no reason to say happy birthday to me, unless, of course, you’ve been rummaging through my trash trying to learn every nuance my lifestyle so that you can murder me, skin me, and transition into a life as Justin Gawel in said skin bodysuit.

Oh, also, how ever will I vote now without your, ever-so-gritty, hard-hitting political opinions on my newsfeed?  Boy, I’m sure glad you like to tell it like it is; I’ll bet all seven hundred of your closest friends are doing some deep introspection after you posted “Mitt totally won th debete.  4 mor minutez of talk Obama???  I don’t want four more yrs!!!!!  Ppl need jobz Obama lolz” Wow, a sentiment brimming with such wit and political insight I’m sure you’re a shoe in to be portrayed as a character on next season of The Newsroom or, at the very least, the New Yorker will surely offer you a weekly column.

How clever you are, with all your apparent scrounging through my trash, you must have inferred from my empty liquor bottles and Nestle Crunch wrappers that I deeply desire to read your posts filled with Adele lyrics whenever you’re having relationship problems!  Anne Frankly though, I’d greatly prefer the uninformed political statues to the cliché enigmatic statuses about your relationship.   Or, even better, just don’t jam up my newsfeed with any of your shit.

Anytime I see one of these grammatically incorrect lyric gems I think, “Hey, wow, what an attention whore.”  You’re status becomes a Bat Signal that doesn’t call a hero to protect a city, but rather calls a bunch of equally pathetic people to give you generic comments and attention via the Internet.  Thank god you have the Internet to make you feel better after a lover’s quarrel.  But hey, how about next time just save yourself the trouble and don’t burn your significant other with a cigarette when he or she forgets to pick up toilet paper—it’s not worth the fight.  Just use an old candy wrapper to “sweep your back porch” for another day.  It’s a solid plan; I mean, what I’m trying to say is that those Nestle Crunch wrappers in my trash that you dig through aren’t covered in melted chocolate and the ends of candy corn. 

Further, your statuses about Darfur or liking Greenpeace’s page don’t make you “deep”,  “self-less”, or “a world citizen”.  Nope it just makes you a butthole who wants to justify the crappy things they do in life by clicking “Like” a few times.  Oh, I hear you, “I can’t be bad friend, guys; I’m way too concerned with the suffering of all people for that.”   

Honestly, I’m glad you’re ending it now before you’ve had any big life events.  I know you’ve failed out of college twice and were promoted to the assistant manager at Little Caesars.  No, I’m talking about actually life altering, and no, the extra $2.12/hour you make as the assistant manager is not considered life altering.   I can only imagine the slew of status updates I’d have to sift through if you were to get engaged, married, or, heaven forbid, bring a narcissistic child into this world (That’s how you’ll know he’s yours!).  And no, I would not accept the subsequent friend request I’d get from a Facebook page you made for your two-day-old child.  That’s disgusting.

Don’t try to re-friend me; like pubic lice, I’ve rid my life of you once and I’ve learned my lesson. 

Go ahead and post this rant to Facebook; tag it something like “ppl take FB rly srsly!!! #lollerskates #lolidayvacation #lolocaust”.  I don’t care; it won’t show up in my newsfeed

Editor's Note: Spread the love and check out Justin's other writing at http://justingawel.com/