Okay, I reinstated my Facebook account again. Did you miss me? You did not. I was gone for a month, but only Facebook itself wrote me, sending me your profile pictures and telling me that you were having a wonderful life without me.

During that month, “Where’s Peter?” was supposed to have been the subject of everyone’s updates. Facebook, that electronic version of Bedford Falls, was supposed to be collecting money – well, collecting something – to try to prove to me after I had leapt from the bridge that even I could get a social-media life.

But I’m not back because of your pathetic sympathy. Instead, I discovered that when I quit Facebook in May, Facebook pulled from my friends’ and family members’ albums all my photos that I had edited, posted and so sedulously tagged. My daughter Bethany complained that half her account’s pics were suddenly gone.  Then I saw that Victoria’s masthead went from that flattering shot of me and my Froot Loops box when you’d hover over “Married to Peter Stephens” to only (and I swear it was in a lighter and smaller font) “married.” As if Victoria didn’t want to acknowledge me, didn’t want to be seen with me or my cereal box.

Or maybe it was as if I had never been born.

Why did I jump?  Lots of little reasons, but I must confess to the biggest one: I’ve never forgiven Facebook for pushing blogs off the bright, busy bridge of online traffic and into the cold, black backwaters below.

This is now the third time I’ve joined Facebook, which visited me today in the form of a wingless angel. Consequently, Victoria got her husband back; Zuzu got her pictures back. Facebook promised to draw my blog into the fold with me, too, if only I’d let it take over my commenting. So I drank the egg nog. If someone wants to comment on a new slow reads post, she first must sign onto her Facebook account. No Facebook account, no comment. I reckon if I quit Facebook a third time, it might not permit me to comment or even post on my own blog. It’s possible: I don’t know what I agreed to in the thirty seconds it took Facebook to restore me to life.

So my blog’s more integrated. All comments on my posts will show up on the commenters’ Facebook walls and (sometimes, anyway) on their friends’ news feeds. Any likes or comments by those friends of commenters will, in turn, show up under my blog posts whether those friends will have bothered to read or even click to my post at all. 1 So if you were to go on my blog, it will be as if I had more traffic, almost as if I were well adjusted to social networking, and even a little as if it were Christmas morning and Mr. Mark Z. Potter no longer had his hooks in me and my two-bit savings-and-loan of a blog.

  1. People who find themselves on my blog can sign into Facebook and comment on a post without a Facebook update if they wish to.