Sex, lies and Facebook
(Well, not much of the sex, actually, but it made a nice title.)
It’s during the run-up to Christmas that even the most strait-laced, honest person has to start doing a little ducking and diving. If your life is anything like mine, you can guarantee that you’ll be invited to several clashing Christmas parties, every weekend from December 2nd onwards.
And, really, even with the toughest, most trained liver in the world, not to mention a driver and a supersonic car, you really can’t go to them all.
So you do what everyone’s done since time immemorial: You prioritise. You go to the ones you first said yes to; you go to the ones held by your dearest friends; you give heartfelt apologies to those whose parties you’d really like to go to but genuinely can’t; and you lie to those with whom you can’t be bothered attending (you’re sick, the kids are sick and you’re attending your other half’s work dinner are always good ones).
And, historically, even the most strait-laced and honest of us have traditionally got away with such festive duplicity.
But now there is Facebook.
And suddenly “I’m sick” doesn’t cut the mustard with X when Y tags pictures of you smouldering at her party the same night.
And “It’s DH’s work dinner” doesn’t work when W sees pictures of you dancing on the tables at Z’s party that night (“Surely she wasn’t dancing on the table at DH’s work dinner?” they ask. Well, so what if I was…?)
But the worst is when your friend sees pictures of the fabulous party you hosted and didn’t invite her to.
Ouch. Good luck, my friends, good luck.
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