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LYC: Read an article about the worst FB friends you have. I still have one dude from UK named Gavin who fits this perfectly. Met him in some random

pub in London over 4 years ago. I don't even remember giving him the info. Still is one of my favorite FB posters.



There's a curious sub-species of the British Lad, uncatalogued by leading lad biologists, who you will meet in the smoking area of a nightclub and he will immediately makes friends with you on Facebook. "What's your name on Facebook, man?" he'll say, forcefully shaking your hand. "Joel," you will say, if you're me. "Yeah, but what's your name on Facebook?" And you watch him tap your name up, and find you, and zoom in on your profile picture and hold it up to your face—"That you?" he's saying, almost fiercely, and you nod, you idiot, you nod—and then he will send you a friend request. And then he will watch you intently until you take your phone out of your pocket and press "Accept." "I'll just invite you to a club night I'm doing next Tuesday," he says. "My cousin's DJing." And so you find yourself, inexorably linked forever to the kind of man who goes to a nightclub on his own, watching his constant feed of amateur soccer videos ("LOOK AT THIS FREE KICK!") ("LOOK AT THESE GOALS FALL OVER IN THE WIND"), fending off the occasional poke (How does this man still know where the poke button is? Mark Zuckerberg doesn't know where the poke button is), afraid forever to return to the scene of your friendship crime in case he clocks you again and makes you buy him a beer. And you will never be rid of him. He will never die. When the missiles hit and the cockroaches inherit the earth, he will still be stood in the corner of the smoking section of WonderWorld, in a River Island bomber jacket and on a final warning from the bouncer, scrolling through Facebook on his phone, sending you event requests, and laughing.


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