Saving Face
By Gene Aronowitz
Bill had wanted children badly, but Sandy thought she would make a terrible mother. Both regretted that their marriage had to end in divorce but they remained friends and were occasional lovers.
As the managing partner of a law firm specializing in real estate, Bill made enough money to cover alimony and to own a two-bedroom apartment on Central Park West in Manhattan. He worked long hours and rarely got home before nine or ten. He usually stopped at a deli to pick up something to eat, spread it out on his desk, turn on his computer, and open Facebook.
Bill’s birthday was two days away, and he worried that the number of birthday greetings on Facebook might be even more disappointing than the previous year. He didn’t want his list of posts to look emaciated compared to others. His perception of himself as unable to make friends had intensified since his divorce.
When Bill opened Facebook that night, he went first to the list of notifications. One said, “Let Sam Smith know you are thinking about him on his birthday today. I’m not thinking about Sam today, he thought, and, as a matter of fact, I rarely think about him. His face scrunched as he wondered if Sam and the others would feel the same about him.
Bill posted a birthday greeting for Sam, just as he did for everyone on his friends list, hoping for reciprocity. He tried to make them reasonably expressive so others would notice them, not like the insipid greetings that just said “Happy Bday” or “HBD.”
To preempt a poor showing, Bill decided to post a message about his upcoming birthday in advance, and, as an added lure, he attached an adorable picture of his two-year-old self on a horse in a cowboy suit.
Bill Burns
It’s hard to grow older, but considering the alternative, I’m looking forward to celebrating my birthday in two days. I wish I could find some way to get together with all of you, but that is of course not possible.
When he checked Facebook the next night after work, he saw that no one “liked” his post or commented. He walked into his living room, poured half a glass of rye, gulped it down, turned off the light, and went to bed.
Bill was up at 6:15 a.m. the following morning, and, at 6:30, he opened Facebook to see if anyone had wished him a happy birthday, and no one had. Not trusting that new posts would appear automatically, he refreshed his page about every ten minutes over the next hour but still saw nothing.
His head was buzzing with a continuing torrent of unpleasant thoughts. I sent something to everybody, but I’m getting nothing. What’s that about? But it’s still early. Things will work out. Hope things will work out. No, nothing’s working out. What’s going on? What’s wrong with me?
At 7:53 a.m., when he could wait no longer, he called his ex-wife and, when she answered, said, “Hey Sandy, do something for me please. Click on my Facebook birthday notification and write something. I just need to make sure that it’s working.”
“Sure thing. Glad to. How’s it going?”
“Not bad. Thanks for doing this. I appreciate it. I really do.”
Sandy’s post, “Have a really happy birthday today Bill,” appeared at 8:15, but he received only eleven other birthday wishes from his eighty-nine friends; the most ironic, “May your birthday be filled with laughter,” arrived at 7:02 that evening.
Bill didn’t even open Facebook for a couple of days, grimacing when he saw the icon, but on the morning of the third day, he posted once again.
Bill Burns
Sorry it has taken so long to write this. I was very, very busy answering the many phone calls I received on my birthday and replying to all the voice messages and texts. I’m sincerely grateful for all your good wishes.
When he came home from work that night, Bill noticed that he had a voice message on his landline from his ex and called her back.
“Hi Sandy. What’s up?”
“I saw your post. Yikes. You must really feel shitty.
“Yeah, I do. . . I know it was stupid. I can’t stand it anymore. Facebook is driving me nuts.”
“You’re driving yourself nuts,” she snapped.
“I can’t connect with people the way I want – very few friends – and obviously not very good ones. But, you know, I don’t want it to look that way.”
“Facebook has nothing to do with friendship,” Sandy replied. “It’s always been a way for people to be connected without being close.”
“I know. I know.”
“Get some rest, Billy, and feel better. Night.”
Three days after his 39th birthday, Bill’s attempted face-saver was his last post on Facebook. But the separation was not easy for him. After a few months, he felt like he was going through a second divorce.
