Despite being on Twitter for over ten years, I have only really been active on it over the past few months, when I did an experiment to decide which social media platform best fit my personality. I wrote an article about such things but never finished it, and am working on turning it into a future blog post once I compile enough data. My end result, however, was that Twitter is my drug.
This led to me joining the #WritingCommunity on Twitter which is huge and mostly supportive and wonderful. It gained me over 1500 followers and counting. Not that this matters to me as I was happy with the 108 that followed me since the old days, but as Kev put it “Now you have fans.” The way Twitter likes to work is that I tweet something, two or three of my friends like it, and it shows up on their friend’s feeds. Then their friend might like it, might even follow me because they scrolled though my page and found it amusing. I now average 3-4 followers a day if I’m inactive, more if ‘m working at it. The idea that they are “fans,” however, is off-putting. Although, Kev rationalizes that these are potential readers and future book buyers, so yeah, they could be fans in one way or another. He says I should enjoy it. I say I’m not used to people liking me.
I’m really not. Most people see my face, assume I’m a bitch, and move on. My memoir will be titled “That’s Just My Face: The Brigid Hannon Story.” But I digress…
So here I am, active on Twitter, gaining those followers, using hashtags and threads and all that jazz, and I come across several walks of life. It’s customary to follow back your followers, so that you don’t seem like a total jerk. The problem is, while I am always respectful, I don’t WANT to follow some of these people. There are certain subgroups of people that, frankly, bring nothing to my life. It’s to them I speak today.
A few letters to a few followers that I did not follow back:
Dear Dude With No Bio Who Slid Into My DMs-
Thank you for telling me about your lucrative job as a doctor from California who is currently living in Syria. (Or Iran. Usually one or the other.) That’s not fishy at all. I certainly don’t automatically assume that you are an election rigging, fake-news spouting, Russian bot. Your lack of info and tweets only shows me that you are concentrating on the care of the one child you always seem to have from a previous marriage who is in boarding school in Russia. (It’s always Russia.) I’m not really looking to chat further but, in the future, may I suggest learning English so that you actually sound like a doctor from California? It will smooth out your attempt to scam people.
Dear Dude With Bio That Reads “Looking For The One”-
Thank you for the excessive compliments. I also think my glasses are sexy. So does my husband. I’m sorry that you didn’t take my statement about being married appropriately. I crazily assumed you would tell me to have a nice day and leave it at that. I didn’t realize that first you would ask me to have an affair with you and then call me a bitch when I refused. I’m not even refusing because I’m married, buddy. I would refuse you if I was single. I may be the caring, beautiful goddess you claim I am, but Twitter is not Tinder and I am not “The One.”
Dear Uber Christian-
Hiya. I’m a cultural Catholic, having been raised in a deeply religious environment and then giving up the church completely by age 25. So, if you’re the kind of Christian I’m talking about, you either think I’m a heathen because I left the church or you think I’m a heathen because you think all Catholics are heathens which is a fun little fact about Evangelicals that I learned at too young an age. Now since I’m a heathen, you may feel the urge to convert me. Please resist. Here are some facts about me. 1. I am a contrary person, in general. I don’t tend to go along with the crowd. Crowds make me nervous. And 2. My God is bigger than yours. Yours is small and boxed-in, excluding people and pointing fingers and telling you when to jump and how high. My God loves everyone, created us all with purpose despite our flaws, and makes us WANT to jump higher, without telling us to. I would ask you to know Him better…but I don’t shove my personal beliefs down other people’s throats like some do.
Dear Company Selling Things-
I live paycheck to paycheck. I might like what you have to offer, but I can’t BUY what you have to offer. Your services may be number one, but my follow back is not going to change your profit line. I get the idea of promoting yourself via Twitter, especially since I will have to do that should someone pick up my chapbook, but just because you show up in my follow list I’m not going to check out your page and think “hell, I really DO need a new porch awning! I’ll just get it from these guys!” No, it’s never going to happen.
Dear Trump Fan-
Honey, you’re lost. I mean, how did you even get here? What part of my profile made you think “gee, she’s my kind of gal!” Was it the anti-gun posts, or the feminism blogs? Was it the rooting for Liz Warren, or the unabashed girl-crush on AOC? Was it the part where I’m all for abortion rights, or was it my comments on Mitch McConnell’s frog face? The part where I yelled about kids in cages, or the MeToo hashtag? WHY ARE YOU HERE? Are you one of those rare few who love and accept all no matter what their beliefs? And if so…why are you a Trump fan?
Dear Tweeter Of Their Native Tongue:
I would love to follow you back, really, but I have no idea what you’re saying. I appreciate that you know more than one language and can understand me, but nothing you post will be relevant to me due to the language barrier. My deepest regrets.
Oh, and finally:
Dear One Dude From Kenya Who Messaged Me Because He Likes Poems And Didn’t Hit On Me Once:
Thanks, like…so much. A prince among men, you are.