I don’t think not having a Facebook account makes me better, smarter or more awesome than anyone else. Nor do I think it makes me cooler or more authentic.

Sometimes I actually wish I could tolerate experiences like Facebook and other similar social milieus — extending this tolerance into the real-world to parties and get-togethers as well.

But I just can’t. It’s not a choice. More like an allergic reaction.

You know that feeling you get when you put something really bitter and foul in your mouth? And you try to swallow it but you just can’t and you start to retch involuntarily?

That’s what Facebook and all similar social aggregators and nexuses feel like to me. I try but just can’t choke it down.

It’s a handicap, truly. Humans are social creatures. I seem to want the benefits of social interaction without any of the unpleasant work involved. And to me it is painful, agonizing toil not involving a moment of pleasure.

I was never social, and I probably was made less social by extensive bullying. I learned early to utterly distrust adults and peers.

Hard lessons, but much of it was just my nature anyway.

I want more friends but have much trouble enduring the necessary moil of making that happen.