I Just Facebook Divorced My Joke Facebook Wife Of 10 Years
Author’s Note: My best friend and I have been joke married on Facebook for a decade. Tonight, that marriage ended. Here’s a message I shared regarding our divorce.
Dear all: Hannah and I are getting a divorce after 10 years of being fake married on Facebook, a joke that never ceased to amuse us over an entire decade. Since 2005, our relationship has survived multiple articles about how it’s uncool to remain joke married to your best friend on Facebook, serious multi-year relationships with actual (understanding) romantic partners, as well as baffled inquiries from older family members who joined Facebook more recently. The tenure of our relationship has even been mentioned on BuzzFeed, which technically — and yes, hyperbolically — means it’s been covered by the national media.
To those of you who have been waiting years for an open best friendship slot with either of us, I regret to inform you that this is not that.
We’ve talked about ending the Facebook marriage this year for a variety of reasons: Hannah is actually engaged to the most wonderful, cool guy as of last month, and gay marriage is, finally and terrifically, legal as of earlier this summer. Our joke has become genuinely confusing! We discussed holding a dramatic, loud divorce scene at our high school class’s 10-year reunion last night, but ultimately, that concept was much more fun to imagine with each other than it probably would have been for anyone who was there. (Congrats to those of you who dodged a bullet.)
As goofy as it is, we feel that our Facebook divorce — given the sheer length of our Facebook marriage — merits some acknowledgment.
Since 2005, we have amassed 202 mutual friends, numerous photos and a cadre of wall posts, many of which are extremely cringe-worthy! (Why did we think it was okay to write on each other’s walls under the influence? Why did we spell “hot” with two ts?) There’s lots of evidence of how Facebook itself has changed — we got married on “TheFacebook.com,” scoffed at when non-college students like our siblings were allowed to join, observed the addition of photos and gleefully added fake “Friend Details” to our relationship. (“Sapna is your significant other. She was also your coworker. You dated and hooked up.”)
There is joyous bullying over Hannah’s one true terror (Batboy), exchanges of YouTube links that hold up to this day and faithful documentation of reunions in Ecuador, DC, NYC and at home. (These required uploads to a desktop computer, given we didn’t have smartphones until years into the marriage.) There is also significant space devoted to Jellyfish Game, which is astounding given that Jellyfish Game consists of floating limp in the ocean, like a jellyfish. (Who are we kidding — Jellyfish Game rules!) It’s funny now to see us gush over our co-created Onionlike.tumblr.com’s meteoric rise to 348,000 followers and a spot on BuzzFeed’s list of top Tumblrs in 2011, given my current place of employment.
Being married has always made it easy for each of us to explain how important the other is to new people, especially new boyfriends. We’re not just best friends. We’re MARRIED. On FACEBOOK. Sirens! Essential life figure! Approval matters! Judge not lest ye be judged!
I think it is fair to leave that spot open for Will, should he want to occupy it.
It is a small solace that we can now edit our relationship, rather than be forced to hit a “Cancel Relationship” button. As strange as it will be to experience Facebook as someone who is not married to Hannah Cole-Chu, or someone who is not married to Sapna Maheshwari, I believe we will thrive in our new circumstances. May we never forget the past decade.
The Social Media End.