Two of my ex-girlfriends spent an entire week bitching on Facebook about how their lady-gardens were now all stretched out and useless.
Of course, since I intentionally avoid Facebook to avoid things like that, I didn't get to see it.
Instead I had to listen to my mother describe the posts over the phone, which made it worse.
Mom: You really have to get one of these Facebooks, son. You miss so much stuff! Like <Ex1>, she just had a cute little baby boy! And <Ex2>, her daughter is three months old now! Three months! Can you believe it?
Me: Yeah, I can. You told me about it three months ago. And babies aren't cute, mom. They're wrinkly little poop machines, and if I wanted something like that I'd buy a Sharpei.
Mom: Ha-ha, mister funny. There's other stuff! Like.. Oh! She's.. Oh... Nevermind. But there's.. Ah..
Me: What?
Mom: Well, son.. When a woman has children, things start to relax....
Me: Noooo, I don't want to hear this.
Mom: You're almost forty, get over it!
Me: Yup. Forty and I still don't want to hear about my ex-girlfriend's ruined clown-car. Especially since she's now on what, number four? Five?
My mother starts scrolling down the page (I could hear her mouse wheel ticking), looking for something else that might convince me to friend her on Facebook and reading the posts quietly to herself. Ex1 and Ex2 are actively competing to see who's done the most damage. I held out as long as I could until I heard Mom mumbling something about a hotdog and a hallway in a sort of 'I don't know what this means' way.
I wasn't gonna explain it.
Me: Listen, Mom, I gotta go. Have fun with your Facebook.
Mom: Okay, son! I love you and I'll talk to you soon! Oh, and I'll send you an email with pictures of the kids!
Three days later she emails me a bunch of uncropped screenshots of Facebook. Tiny, postage stamp sized pictures of the dozen kids my two exes have between them interspersed with two women discussing how their USDA Prime beef-curtains became dollar-store hamburger and bad, closeup photos of childbirth.