Snarkyworld

To e is easy. To e truthfully, divine. I have dipped my toe so gingerly into a writer-oriented site, and see it as interactive light, as Episcopal is to Catholic.
Comments are careful, correct, encouraging and gregarious.
I am not fooled. I was a bartender. I heard what the guys said when the girls were in the restroom.
These people are not likely what they appear to be. They do get mad, jealous; they whine. But you never see it. Like Christian saints with halos radiating golden light, they tread gingerly on the e-commume.
The problem is, you begin to believe that what they sound like is what they are like, and as with any being plopped on a pedestal, they’re earthbound with a vengeance when true colors deaden the golden glow of the halo.
It’s not lying. It’s worse.
It’s bullshit.
I wouldn’t mind so much if the persona created in this hackosphere were interesting. But, it isn’t. Who on earth wants to be around a constant cheerleader? Who on earth wants to be one? I had two cheerleading friends in real life, both affable, a bit loud, eager to please. Neither are my friends now - and one is likely dead from the growing addiction he used to deaden the pain he ignored when talking too much and too loud.
Both were welcoming friends from the very beginning, telling the most personal, intimate details of his life. Both overate and talked incessantly. Both were always “on.” Both looked happy and optimistic, but were actually terrified and sad. Both made constant lists, and often resolved that, from now on, he was going to... Both were extremely talented, but only marginally successful because they called business associates “friends” with whom they made deals that were at less than fair value. Unsure of themselves, both undersold or ignored their talent. Both blamed “them” - management, the “man,” always someone else - for their lot in life, ignored any opportunity that would change their circumstance, and offered constant assistance to others while their lives were coming apart.
Somehow, they were comfortably ensconced where they were, and treated those who tried to help them with disdain.
Though I knew them in the non-e world, they sounded suspiciously like e-people. So, e-people scare me.
I’m comfortable with snarky banter with some witty sorts, where expressing oneself honestly is applauded. A safe haven, if you will (or if you won’t) from politically correct, melted down, meaningless arms length human contact.
I wonder if that’s possible.