There comes a time to face one's fears

It's become one of the defining questions of our time.

"Are you on Facebook?"

No.

No, I am not on Facebook.

Now stop looking at me like that.

I will admit, however, that I've recently considered the possibility of joining Facebook.

After all. It is free, as the Facebook home page notes in an ever-so-reassuring way, and anyone can join.

That's right, anyone. Even people in their 30s who still can't get past the fact that "social networking" could potentially involve "interacting with new people."

A harrowing prospect, indeed.

And you say you post pictures• Of yourself?• That other people will see?!?

It takes all kinds, I guess.

Nevertheless, it's no longer possible to dismiss the vast reach of this decidedly 21st century cultural phenomenon. Not when so many otherwise disparate people have incorporated it into their daily lives. Not when the brother-in-law is joking with the cousin about being Facebook friends at the Christmas Eve gathering.

Shouldn't someone have cleared that with me first• At least as a courtesy?

Look, I understand the appeal of a diversion like Facebook.

I get bored at work, too.

I even have grown to understand the importance of making friends, if for no other reason than your old friends will invariably get on your nerves, and you'll need the new friends to have around until the old friends figure out what they did wrong and learn not to do it again.

Still, I've got serious misgivings about Facebook membership, a counterintuitive proposition that challenges some of my most firmly held beliefs. It would represent a bold rebuke of the very personality traits that helped me grow from a bashful young lad who dreaded talking to girls into a neurotic adult who dreads talking to everyone.

So joining Facebook would mark a major philosophical shift, almost like a religious conversion, or suddenly becoming the sort of person who strikes up conversations with strangers, just like they do in the movies.

Mostly, though, there is the subconscious fear that nobody will want to be my friend, a possibility that would be eerily similar to my experience in high school.

And the last thing I need is a public forum to confess my innermost fears, to lay bare my emotional scars.

That's what a newspaper column is for.