"For what better way to boost your self-esteem than to see yourself move up a notch in someones Top Friends, or better yet, earn the coveted ‘<—-Luv Dis SmexXi Bitch’ arrow."
Lately I’ve been feeling a little tired of Facebook. Aside from Messenger, the actual ‘social’ aspect amounts to little more than the odd ‘Like’ and tagging your friends in a funny video.
Realistically, it only makes you feel worse about yourself, especially after a particularly long scrolling session.
‘Where is the love?’ I ask myself, Fergiliciously. Or should I say, luv?
The answer comes to me in an explosion of sentimentality and brightly flashing Skins - Bebo. Your daily fill of gossip, luv and gushy comments.
For what better way to boost your self-esteem than to see yourself move up a notch in someones Top Friends, or better yet, earn the coveted ‘<—-Luv Dis SmexXi Bitch’ arrow.
We joke about it now, but back in the day, we would have all taken a Fás course in becoming a Bebo StuNnahH if it was available.
The key to Bebo fame, was creating a killer profile. While the lads presided over which colour Ferrari accurately reflected their personality, girls spent hours in mirrors getting the perfect balance of hair, face and phone.
For a really stellar shot, Blingee was used to add some sparkly hearts and the obligatory tiara.
Next step was ‘Me, Myself and I’, where artistic flair as far as the alphabet was concerned knew no bounds. The harder to read, the better, and as with all artistic movements, the style developed and transformed with age.
The generic capitalisation of every second letter quickly became less pleasing to the eye and a more advanced style of Bebo script developed, with capitalisation being restricted to ‘O’s and the first letter of each word.
The doubling of the ‘i’ was the sign of a true Bebo master and said prodigies generally had ‘luv’ in the thousands. You hated these people because you were oh, so jealous.
People generally cared little about the content of a ‘Me, Myself and I’ as long as proper capitalisation, and use of emojis and italics were consistent throughout.
Nevertheless, you changed it regularly just in case. Adding a brief summary of a day spent with friends was always a healthy update, followed by a paragraph of hahaha’s and laughing emojis.
The standard music quote was also updated to keep up with the latest tunes and, because ‘FOrever YOungg ii’m GOna b FOreverr YOung’ are solid words to live by. Am I right?
Most friendships were categorised by your position in the sacred Top Friends hierarchy. The rejection of being demoted from the number 1 spot would haunt you for weeks as you actively grafted to usurp the current title-holder.
Hours would be spent altering the pecking order, generally according to who you sat with most often at school that week.
Arrows you added gave consolation prizes to those who had been regrettably relegated, usually flashing ‘<—Gawjus Girl’, ‘Sex On Legs—>’ or in the male case, simply, ‘Ledge—>’.
However, nothing was more debilitating than when your love-you-longtime besto and Bebo ‘Other Half’ found love. These two words altered your entire profile indefinitely - ‘single, taken‘.
Before you knew it, you were half of yourself with no other. Your daily ‘luv’ average was plummeting and that paragraph about you on their ‘Me, Myself and I’ was never to be seen again. You cried listening to Basshunter’s Now You’re Gone and don’t deny it.
But Bebo gave you the tools to find another Other Half, and a quick ‘How well do you know me?’ quiz would soon reveal the next in line.
A subtle Whiteboard drawing on the winner’s wall here, some luv-sharing there, and voilá, you’d found your missing piece.
You probably changed your skin to something extra flashy about how much you love your other half just to make a point and all was well in the Bebo world.
It was an emotional roller coaster every day. Bebo brought fights, friendship, love and lust. Hollywood could’ve made millions on a film about The Social Network. Shame.
iLy Bebo Dnt Eva Changee