Do You Like Me? Please Check Yes or No. But Please Check Yes. Please. PLEASE.

We all want validation. That's probably a blanket statement, but luckily I only wear Snuggies now. (Aside: My mom called a Snuggie a Snooki the other day. She doesn't know who Snooki is so I told her she was a terrible person. Then she asked why. I had many answers, but did not tell her any of them for fear of having to explain what a blowout or smush room was. I really had no idea how to fit that into this post so I force fed it into a lame joke about blankets and Snuggies. Aside 2: Do you think they'll ever make a Snuggie with a hole by the crotch area for chronic masturbators, people with enlarged prostates, and all around creeps? You're kidding yourself if you think that wouldn't sell. It would probably be the biggest seller after those weird vibrators that women buy as "gifts" at all the Adult Worlds and Pleasure Chests around the country. I think it should be called the Jibber Jabbie. Patent pending. The conclusion to these asides is that my mom is an immigrant.)

When I was growing up I always wanted to feel like I meant something to someone. I wanted that person to not be my parents because I already know I mean a lot to them since I'm the one that mows the lawn every other Sunday so I was at the very least their personal landscaper. When you play sports you get a sense of validation when strangers root you on to help the team win, but I never got the feeling anyone wanted me around. I was never really invited to parties or asked to cut class to get an Italian Ice and one time I got sent to detention for being late for homeroom. Homeroom. It's not even a class. I got sent to detention for being 2 minutes late to a non-class. Even my homeroom teacher had no reason for my presence.

If Gandhi heard about my plight he would have eaten something. It was that bad.

I'm sure many people feel the same way. Whether it be our parents, friends, therapists, Aunt Linda, pets, or that cute barista that may or may not be of age at the Coffee Bean by your office, we all want to think that we matter to somebody. Validation makes us feel better and while some of us think that being ok with ourselves is validation enough, nothing feels better than someone else telling you thank you or taking time out of their day to send you a note. In the days of yore (pre 1998) we actually had to pick up our phones and call someone to say hi. Time consuming. We had to send letters. Costly. We had to give out handshakes. Gross.

Thank you Ronald Reagan for inventing the fist bump. And Einstein for the explosions.*

*the preceding has not been verified.

The Internet has made validation instant. The best part about writing a blog is seeing a comment in the box below and knowing that someone read the post or at the very least scrolled immediately to the comment box to leave a funny one line quip about how lame I am. Thanks again Mom! But to me there's nothing better for instant gratification than our best friend Mark Zuckerberg’s personal Ocean’s 11.

There was a time when I thought Facebook was just another social media site. Instead it has cut down therapist bills by probably 50 percent. It has kept friendships alive. It has ruined the English language one "lol" at a time. It’s the Mel Gibson of the information superhighway. A money making destructive force that cannot be stopped no matter who it’s prejudice against. Welcome to America. While Facebook has many features that probably contribute to their war against low self esteem there’s only one that lifts spirits equally to all members.

The like button.

Sure, the like button is a silly little mechanism that rips of Arthur Fonzerelli’s signature move when he’s leaving a room, but that silly button has had many effects. The other day I had sent an e-mail to a friend. This particular friend didn’t respond so I figured that they were mad at me for something. Perhaps I kicked their cat on the way out and didn’t apologize. And yes I picked out all the strawberries out of the fruit bowl, but who wouldn’t? (My dream fruit salad? All strawberries.) So when this friend didn’t e-mail me I thought our friendship was damaged. I left it as is and posted something on Facebook. And with the click of one button I realized my friend wasn’t mad at all because they clicked “like”. They liked something I posted. Surely, someone angry wouldn’t be willy nilly clicking like on a post of someone they were angry at. Facebook had kept my friendship alive. I didn’t have to confront them or say “sorry for leaving you with the green melon” since I wasn't really sorry.

There’s nothing better when someone likes something you did on Facebook. It proves that you matter. And why is that? I have no idea. It’s not some grand gesture that anyone made. They didn’t rent out a airplane and skywrite “You are simply the best, better than all the rest. Please don’t sue me Tina Turner.” The person literally took 10 seconds to read your post and one nanosecond to click a graphic thumbs up. In the grand scheme of things they couldn’t have done anything LESS to prove that you mattered. Yet that one nanosecond probably made you smile since what you wrote or linked to or uploaded affected them enough to waste one nanosecond of their day. Of course, it wouldn’t make you smile if it is your ex or baby momma drama or someone stalking you that liked it, but still I’m not taking anything back no matter what you say. You will smile and you will like it.

I heard that at many a Sears family portrait day.

By the time you read this Facebook will have some made some grandiose announcement. I don’t know what it is and I really don’t care since it’s not “two thumbs ups.” I’ve been searching for validation for a long time. I think I’ve found some of it on the Internet. Meeting people I didn’t know existed yesterday. Finding out people read this little blog. Getting Retweeted. It’s all nerdy and it all feels good. So if you have a nanosecond click “like” on someone’s link today. You’ll probably make them feel better.

But if you find that cute barista let me go first.