The Untold Consequences of Social Networking

Raquel Welch on Facebook

We've heard about the many dangers of Internet socializing.  A face might end up as a pic online, except that the body, thanks to Photoshop, is the body of a young Raquel Welch without clothes.  This could be a good thing, for some people, depending upon their priorities and personal preferences.  But these types of pics can be sold for a tidy sum, and it is an anonymous merchant making the money.

Then there's phishing, losing valuable identifiers to people who could use what's left in our bank accounts.  For most of us, no problem.

But this is one for the books.  Blogworthy, we say.  Or something else to worry about if you worry a lot.  Therapists like to think of these situations as problems to be solved.

I'm on Facebook.  It's true, I don't post very often, and if I do, maybe a picture of saltwater fish.
But the other day I notice that I now seem to "like" Zoosk.  Zoosk is a romantic social networking website and I don't like them, never have.  So I post this:

Don't like Zoosk, no matter what they're telling you.  

I don't know, at this point, how to hide what feels like spam on my feed, and I don't know that nobody else knows that I'm the only one seeing the things that Zoosk is posting on my feed.  So I head over to Zoosk (unproductive) but now that I have visited, the cookie to this dating site is captured, somehow, by Match.com.

All of a sudden I have signed up with Match.com.  I am Hypnodoc55 and shudder at the thought that there may be a Hypnodoc54, 53, 52, etc.  And Match.com is sending me 18 women a day to date!  And here I thought that online dating was this difficult thing!  Apparently not if you are a Hypnodoc.

I'm thinking, Ignore it and it will go away. Wrong.  The offers, suggestions, keep coming!  I am clearly the hottest thing out there!  And here I thought that advice, Marry a doctor, passe'.  Apparently not.

So I tell Gmail to pitch Match.com to Spam. That will stop it.  No!  They keep coming.

The only logical thing is to sign in to Match and cancel the account.

This turns out to be simple.  They send me the password that somehow I forgot, and I sign in, and within minutes Match.com is sorry to see me go.

When I tell the story to friends, FD has a funny look on his face.  I know he's thinking, Does she really want to date at this age?

Never gave it a thought, honestly.  Until now. (Joke, okay?  Joke.)

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