She is not my friend in any sense of the word

The co-worker at work who quite often shows us her belly said to me as I was lugging my desk down and out of the building this afternoon that she liked a picture I posted on Facebook. First things first, she is not my friend on Facebook so she saw the picture because someone I am friends with commented on the picture. Which made me think I need to change my settings on Facebook again so that belly-showing freak stays the hell out of my business. Second things second, I muttered something unknowable (even I don’t remember) because I was a half hour late getting out of there and I was hauling three bags of desk out with me and I DO NOT LIKE HER. So, she’s not only oblivious to choosing professional attire, but she’s also thick as brick that my complete and total lack of socializing means I DO NOT LIKE HER AND COULD CARE LESS ABOUT HER OPINION.

Now, I usually forget to do twenty kinds of anything after driving to college town. It’s three hours every Tuesday night and I have a ton of This American Life on a thumb drive so I’m content listening to compelling content and not thinking about the belly-showing freak, generally. But, what was the second thing I did after ordering dinner? I changed my security settings on Facebook. Chances of her getting a clue? Still zero, but at least she won’t talk about what I’m doing on Facebook.

I am a Facebook prude. If I can’t imagine having lunch or dinner with someone, I don’t request to be their friend and I don’t approve their requests. As you can imagine, I have a very small number of friends on that site.