There’s a popular website called Am I The Asshole where people relate stories from their life to establish who, in the story, is the asshole. Invariably the teller of the story does not think they are the asshole but is open to the possibility that maybe they are, after all.
Now I am wondering AITA on Facebook. I have an account, I have Facebook Friends but I rarely read and even more rarely comment on what everyone is doing. My main purpose is checking to see if Sunday's kickabout in the park is on and confirming I'll be there.
To everyone that I have worked with, shared rentals with, and been to school with that’s on Facebook but who I am not in touch with – I hope everyone is doing well. We’re all pretty much in our fifties or older now and our parents are getting old and frail; our kids are getting their licences and moving out of home; our cats and dogs are reaching their natural life spans and leaving us completely legless with grief without their unconditional love.
Weirdly, I am happy to write about this stuff here. I'm happy to make a pissweak passing joke about it on Twitter to an audience of strangers, who have become friends over my 12-or-so years on there. But I just don’t have any urge at all to share it on Facebook. Am I The Asshole? I don't know.
2023 marks 40 years since my cohort finished high school. There’s a reunion but I don't have any real wish to be back there. High school was pretty horrible at times; although I found some amazing friends, and we have walked alongside one another ever since.
This is my Grade 7 soccer team from 1980. I remember the names of all these guys. If I bumped into any of them I’d drop what I was doing to spend time with them, and I'd help them out if they needed help. But there is no way I am walking into a room full of 90 people from high school 40 years ago.
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