Way harsh, Facebook.

     I've noticed that the ads on my Facebook page have gotten increasingly insulting lately. Here's a few I had recently.

     I mean, Facebook has always kind of been like that one relative that's aggressively over-invested in why you're still single, and when are you going to get married because your eggs won't be good forever in case you didn't know, so tick tock. But I've only recently noticed it becoming a direct command -- GO ON A DATE! -- which is annoying first because DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO FACEBOOK, YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME, and second because it's kind of like when you tell someone you haven't been sleeping well, and then when you're saying goodbye they say "Bye, get some sleep!" like you're going to turn around all wide-eyed and astonished, and say, "My God, you're right! The answer's been right in front of me all along! Go to sleep! Brilliant!" Oh, you noticed that I'm gearing up for a life of spinsterhood, eh Facebook? You're right, I should just go on a date! Nevermind that there's no men within fifteen years of my age in the surrounding wasteland of cows and moonshine stills, I'll just go on a date. Maybe one of the cows will go with me. That solves that problem. I'll just burn this stack of cat adoption papers. The pairing of that ad with the one for bridal photography is both baffling and kind of pushy. Baffling because clearly it knows that I'm single (you know, because I post my status every weekend as "Baying at the moon. #foreveralone") and obviously I have no need for a wedding photographer. Pushy because hey, let's take things one step at a time, Facebook. It's a pretty big leap from "Go on a date!" to "Plan your nuptials!"

     The menstrual pain study ad is...unsettling, to say the least. Mostly because I'm pretty sure I've never actually said anything about my lady sicknesses on Facebook. Granted, anyone with a lack of more rewarding and less creepy hobbies could easily learn way more than they needed to about the state of my uterus based on the alarming regularity at which I suddenly spend a week tweeting things like "Million dollar idea: someone start a business where I can pay an hourly fee to sit and brush a miniature pony when I'm sad," but that's not even the same social network. 

     I guess, though, based on the last ad there for experimental treatment for bipolar disorder, maybe something about my profile just gives off an "unstable" vibe, and they figure I must either be hormonal as all hell or straight-up mentally ill. And that's probably why I'm still single, I guess? I dunno. But until Facebook gets it together and finds an advertising algorithm that's slightly less openly acrimonious, maybe I'll just start posting a bunch of statuses about puppies and world travel until it picks up on the keywords and brings me some ads that don't imply I'm a crampy bipolar recluse with no concept of appropriate relationship pacing.