If you’re over 200 years old, and you’ve been married to your spouse for so long that you were already a couple when Otto von Bismarck was chancellor of Germany, and you have the combined computer knowledge of a penicillin fungi, a joint Facebook account with your wrinkled prune of a lover is adorable.
If you’re not older than the wireless telegraph however, and can type on a keyboard with more than just your pointer fingers, having a joint Facebook account with your significant other is literally the creepiest thing you can possibly do with your life. And this is assuming you do a lot of creepy shit already. Which you must, if you have a joint Facebook account.
Here is what I assume BobandLinda Dickcheese are thinking when they set up their joint account: 9/11 was an inside job! I love my schnookums and the world NEEDS TO KNOW. I can’t believe Betty White is dead! Thanks OBAMA. Two passwords is too many to remember. If this pic gets a million “likes” Jesus will save a child in Africa. Vote Trump 2016!
FYI BobandLinda, here is what the rest of the world is thinking when they see your profile, since you can just as easily mark your individual pages with “in a relationship” without being unnecessarily creepy: “I wonder who cheated” and/or “I wonder which one viciously beats the other.”
This is because a joint Facebook account doesn’t scream, “we like to share everything because we’re just so close,” it screams “our relationship is a dangerously toxic mountain of mistrust, jealousy, and violent control.” Besides the obviously unhealthy Stepford Wives meets Charles Manson level of abuse present, there are numerous practical reasons why having a joint account is a foolish decision.
- You can’t hide anything from your partner. If you’re using social media, especially Facebook, to cheat on your spouse, you’re doing it wrong. Go to the convenience store, get a prepaid burner cell phone with a different number, leave it at the office where your wife can’t find it, and text dick pics to your secretary to your heart’s content. Also don’t save numbers in that phone, just memorize them. Don’t do your adulterous chicanery with the Facebook account that you leave logged in on your home desktop for Christ’s sake. What is this, amateur hour? No, you want to use your individual Facebook account for GOOD secrets. Like setting up a surprise party for your beloved. Or getting Christmas present advice from your spouse’s mom. Or getting medical advice about that weird recurring rash on your rectum from your doctor neighbor. You know, things that your spouse is really better off not knowing about.
- You’re supposed to have separate interests from your partner. Maybe you want to go on a “liking” spree for bird-watching pages. Maybe your spouse is obsessed with club-style Dyna motorcycles. Maybe you hate motorcycles, and he/she hates birds. That’s okay. That’s normal. That’s why you have separate accounts, you gargantuan nincompoops. So you can like your stupid asinine bullshit without annoying anybody else.
- You’re supposed to have separate friends from your partner. Obviously, most of your friends will be shared, especially if you’ve been together a long time. But maybe your husband doesn’t need to see that Carla, your freshman year roommate, had another baby on his news feed, and maybe you don’t need to see that Chad, his childhood barber cut off his finger in a tragic barbering accident. If you don’t give a shit about Carla or Chad, congratulations, now you know how literally everybody else in the world feels about your stupid relationship. They don’t fucking care. So stop shoving it down their throats with your creepy joint account you sweaty bridge troll.
- You’re supposed to have a distinct, individual social media presence. This is your own specific brand, and it is actually very important. Employers look at it. Law enforcement looks at it. Everybody fucking looks at it. Would you apply for a job with your spouse’s name on the resume? Of course not. Well, your online profiles are just as much a part of that resume as the word document you upload to your potential employer’s HR website. 27 out of 27 employers surveyed said that if they find a joint Facebook account, they will immediately reject your application, and probably key your car.
- Your joint account screams insecurity with the strength of ten thousand sirens. Do you know what I think when I see a babe with a joint Facebook account? I don’t think, oh no, she’s in love, I’d better respect her and her husband’s clearly strong, healthy, nurturing, and fulfilling relationship! No…no no. What I think, and what every other person in the world thinks is Behold! Therein lies a struggling relationship, weakened by deep-seated emotional issues. Now is the time to strike! So really, by over-proclaiming your co-dependence, you’re actually making yourself a target. Burglars don’t break into your house through the strongest brick wall, they come in to steal your treasures through the already broken window. Your joint Facebook account is that broken window.
- You don’t do EVERYTHING together. Your social media is supposed to reflect YOU. You are not BobandLinda. You are Bob. Or you are Linda. Separate. Unless you’re some sort of unholy conjoined amorphous meat-blob, you should really retain a certain level of independent thought and activity from your partner. Some couples are super close and comfortable with each other. Like, so close that one person might brush their teeth in the bathroom while the other is pooping. That’s okay. Unsanitary, but okay. Those people still have separate Facebook accounts. I can only imagine that the troglodytes with joint Facebook accounts not only share the bathroom while pooping, but also show each other their toilet paper after each wipe.
Is that who you are? Are you a person who shows their partner your shitty toilet paper? No, I didn’t think you were. So for the love of all the Gods, please delete your joint Facebook account immediately and stop being such a colossal stooge.
Does this mean Facebook will die soon? My red dress and dancing shoes are ready for its grave.