How to: Accidentally become a Facebook stalker

It’s finals week. You have an abundance of free time designed for studying. Obviously, you are on Facebook. The previous week you went out, met a guy. You may or may not have danced, made out, taken part in some heavy petting, etc. You use your sweet deductive skills and discover that there are only six Henrys in the UVM directory; only two are juniors, which you discovered he is when you had that, uh, deep conversation. You search them all. Finally, you hit your mark. You contemplate “friending” him. You ask your roommates whether or not it would be weird, too forward, needy, too soon. They give you vague, unhelpful answers. You decide to do it anyway. You wait. And wait. Thoughts flood your mind: His computer crashed; he was abducted and forced to become a drug mule; he hates you. Finally, as you study Marx’s thoughts on “the Jewish Question,” you see that this elusive creature has accepted your friend request. You drop Marx, whose facial hair creeped you out anyway, and go back to your stalking. First, you scroll through his profile pictures. Then tagged pictures. Twenty minutes later you are sifting through past wall posts. You see a number of posts from some bitch named Tess. Whose name is Tess, anyway? You imagine Tess and Henry’s long, lovely romance, their future children, the home wrecking that currently doesn’t seem like that bad of a plan. His mom wrote on his wall. You check her out. You look for a family resemblance. Henry has a brother. Hmm, wouldn’t it be cute if he dated your best friend? Then you could live next door to each other. Pretty soon your imaginary future looks like an episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond.” After an hour passes, you realize you have taken part in what might be determined criminal level stalking. Later that weekend, you get a text from the not-so-elusive-after-all Henry. You have to remind yourself that you don’t actually know his mother’s name is Nancy, he has a brother named Walter and you shouldn’t angrily ask who the hell Tess is. This column is not meant to be taken as actual advice, but rather as social commentary. The Cynic does not advise you to do or not do any of the activities mentioned above.