Dear Facebook,

Dear Facebook,

We started off as friends. I told you a little about me, shared a photo or two, and frequently left my status enigmatically unwritten. In time, you helped me to reconnect with friends all over the world. I didn’t believe in “friending” people I saw everyday, or sharing the fruits of my culinary labours with friends leapfrogging over a twenty-year gap. Your ever-ready presence singlehandedly solved the issue of too few hours in the day for lengthy phone calls and too few friends of my age texting prolifically. Life could become a series of public greetings, conversations that only friends in my network would get, and nostalgic references too irresistible for them not to pass comment.

Facebook, after a while you began to get on my nerves. Your constant pairings with new applications took its toll. I tried to understand that you were changing, and people were looking for new ways to show friends were in their thoughts. But the importance placed on watering, planting and nurturing all these Facebook gardens, the constant barrage of leafy gifts from friends secretly trying to earn points to buy shrubs and garden tools was trying. In time, I ignored the donations, and let my garden wither and die. I began to delete your major wall apps: my garden, my aquarium, the world map of places I had visited. The writing was on the wall when someone unleashed the Facebook farm application. Too late to dodge the bullet, a chunk of the friend requests I’d accepted with a modicum of skepticism turned out to be seated Farm enthusiasts flooding my wall and email account with notifications of their farming activities. When the same contingent embraced Bejewelled and Bedazzled it was over.

I’ve broken up with you at least three times. Twice early on for the ruinous amount of game-related drivel blocking my inbox, once, long after you blossomed into a user-friendly, friend-connecting, information sharing, enjoyable, socially relevant, important part of my daily routine. In other words, we were so serious I had cold feet about the amount of time we were spending together. It wasn’t you – it was me and my new friend, the iPhone. With a monthly data plan I could check on you first thing in the morning, anytime in the day, and every night in bed. I needed to know we could be apart, (at least for two weeks).

Twice more I left you for places where I barely had a cell-phone signal, let alone Wifi. When I came back, you had changed and I felt like a stranger finding my way around. You’d grown up. All the girly quizzes and gardens had been abandoned. You were more vital, connected. We were all nuzzling at your wall to share music, debate politics, and comment on moments in history. You alerted us to your inner changes too: changes to privacy settings, data you were collecting, decisions to track the locations of photos (just like Apple) to get a better sense of us, your adoring audience and how far we roamed.

You always seemed to accept that I liked to keep things private. My security settings matched my privacy settings. Friends only. Not friends of friends, no strangers, no public listing searchable on Google. Once in a while you slipped up though, didn’t you? You’d update some inner workings and manage to reset all the privacy settings to public view. I only panicked when some random people had found my page and commented on photos but with a few keystrokes I had reinstated the moat and drawbridge.

It’s been years since I sat down to spend quality time with you at a computer. With an iPad and iPhone at my finger tips, I take you for granted, use you to quickly comment on posts, “like” links, or gauge mass reactions to royal weddings and murder trials. Like a long-term partner, I’ve come to expect you to be there for me, as I am for you. Checking in for a news update, some shared photos, a good laugh. You shrink the world for me and absolve me of my responsibility to pick up the phone.

But now, Facebook, something’s changed. And this time it’s you, not me. You’re taking me for granted, telling me which friends to see (in a real time Ticker feed), what I want to read (in your Relevant news). Now you want to package our Facebook relationship with your archive service which I - talk to the hand – have rejected outright. You already use my data to feed scrolling adverts on my page, but word is you’re sinking to a new low. Fergie may have sold access to her Prince but I didn’t foresee you soliciting my friends for my missing data like lusty paparazzi, storing data even when I block it, or tracking my browsing moves on outside websites that use your Open Graph API data collection tool.

Breaking up is never easy, and it might take time, but there is someone else to soften the blow. WhatsApp for iPhone lets me share messages and photos with friends I would call if I had more time. They’re predicting you’ll have a billion registered users soon so I’m guessing you won’t miss a few who jump ship. But, Facebook, get a grip. You may have had our heads for a long time but you shouldn’t expect all our data on a silver platter.