Drama on the Hallowed Ground

There are lots of places in life where drama is expected. "Reality" TV shows, for one. Weddings. Protest rallies and radio talk shows. Blogs even. I've certainly seen my share of blog drama, words flying so fast and angrily in the comment section you can practically feel the spit flinging out of the screen at you. There was, in fact, a blog post this weekend that had me grinding my teeth with my itchy fingers poised over the keyboard ready to step into the fray.

But I didn't. I didn't because the post wasn't written in such a way as to say, "Hey, why don't you share your opinion and lets openly debate and discuss this issue." It was written with one fist raised in a "I dare you to disagree" way. And lets face it, I'm just not that into controversy.

So it really set my teeth on edge when someone came gunning for me, ready to start a war on my hallowed safe ground: my facebook page.

Honestly, folks... don't we choose our facebook friends? Isn't the point of being selective so that you are surrounded in that little piece of real estate by people you actually like? How many places in life can you do that? Facebook should be a safe haven.

So when a supposed friend came at me – and all my other friends – with rude and snide comments, I was a little shocked. Especially over the topic at hand.

Was it politics? Religion? My choice of Nikon over Canon? My occasional mention of Justin Bieber?

No. The offending status update was over this:

This is a pool. It is my pool. Well, not mine, per se, but the pool my family belongs to. It's on an Army post, at an officer's club. My husband used to be an Army officer and now works for the Department of Defense, which gives us certain very limited access to post facilities, like the O-Club.

The status update wasn't even about the pool. It was about a welcome-home-Daddy sign I saw on the lawn of one of the houses I passed leaving the pool. It was a sweet, sweet sign that made me tear up.

Apparently, this is offensive.

I go to a pool that should only be for officers.

A question was asked rudely, which I answered politely. Others chimed in on the answer, and the rudeness on the "friend's" part escalated. I made a joke to diffuse the situation and it got even uglier. Other friends tried to make a joke of it. It got downright hateful. I had friends writing me personal emails, "Who the heck is this girl and where in the world does she get off saying this stuff to us?"

This isn't the first time I've been treated combatively by her before.  Anything I write seems to set her off. And the sad, sad fact is that this isn't some random person I met over the blogosphere. This is someone I've known. Someone who's house I've stayed at, who I've made dinner for and vacationed with. Her husband was in our wedding party. And yet, it's as though I don't know her at all. This is not the person I once was friends with.

But to criticize me and be snide with me is one thing. When she went ballistic on my friends, that was the end of the line for me.

So for the first time in my facebook life, I un-friended someone.

There was immediate hateful kickback, and then all went silent.

Blissfully quiet.

This kind of quiet:

Because life is too short to surround yourself voluntarily with people who try to make your life miserable. And if facebook is the only hallowed peaceful ground I have left I can control... I'm going to exercise my right to make it drama free.

I'll leave the drama for the new season of Survivor.