I was always a Facebook girl. Ooo, look at my wonderful children covered in spaghetti juice! Look at my vegetable that looks like a willy! Look at my new profile pic staring off to the side! Look! Look! Look!
The beauty of it is that people do generally look. And Like. And even comment. Because they all know you, and therefore put up with you. They're your real-life-friend, or have been in the past. Or they're your colleague, past or present. Or perhaps an old school chum. Whatever their relationship to you, you've invited them in because you're comfortable with them.
Being on Facebook is like sitting in your front room with all your bezzies and a few weirdos you've picked up along the way. In the corner, cousin Kevin is showing a few people his holiday slides. Over there, your boss is showing off a cake smothered in chocolate fingers that she's made for her son's 5th birthday. And lying on the sofa, half naked, is your best friend showing her newly flat stomach. It's friendly, warm... and safe.
Twitter, on the other hand, is an enormous room of darkness. As an anonymous blogger, I started on Twitter with no known contacts - so my room was empty and sodding scary. I was the new girl in the playground, and attempted to join in on the odd conversation - but the trouble was, as I had ZERO followers, it was assumed that I had nothing to say. (And actually, they were right. I was shit at it.)
I started by blasting on about my blog in a very Facebook way. LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT MY BLOG! ISN'T IT GREAT! Sounding very much like Rik from The Young Ones. Funnily enough, no one took any notice, because I was sodding irritating. It took me a while to realise that on Twitter, you either need to make friends by being yourself, in an honest, quirky way; OR you model yourself as an expert in your chosen field and tweet about that all day long. Well, there was no bleedin way I was tweeting about Divorce till kingdom come (I'd run out of things to say at midday, Day 1), so I had to learn to tweet about stuff in my life.
Gradually, the dark cavern started to populate. People brought in comfy chairs and stuck around for a while. I even (get this) properly MET some virtual Twitter people at Blogfest who turned out to be utterly lovely. And then, to cap it all, I WENT OUT with a virtual someone, too. So Twitter became my favourite thing in the world. I still didn't tweet enough to feel like I was a bona fide club member, but at least I felt like I'd done enough to know the rules.
But Twitter's a cold place when things go wrong. The relationship I was having broke down - we always knew it would eventually - and because of my own lack of self belief, it really, really hurt when I saw him flirting with others. Because that had been 'our' thing. It felt like every single Twitter user was standing in the room, and he was telling everyone how astonishingly attractive this lady was... and they were all looking at me, saying, 'so how do you feel about that?'.
This I suspect says more about me than it does about Twitter. And the ridiculous thing is that I had gone back to boyf by that point. So I felt loved; it's just that I also felt stupid, and small. Unpick that one if you will.
In an illogical womanly rage I removed the Twitter app from my phone and cursed it from high for all of 48 hours. I ran back over to Facebook, my faithful friend, and posted pictures of Italian waiters and vending machines that said 'Titti' on them. And sunsets. And the comments came flooding in and everything was suddenly ok.
I feel like I've gone a bit social media loopy. The good thing is that I'm off camping with Teen and Tween next week. There is no WiFi in that Welsh wood. So it's an enforced break from the virtual nonsense that messes with my head - although I suspect that I will be seeking out cafes to get my intense internet hit.