Don't spend your time looking for an announcement on my husband's page. You won't find it there.
If I were to search through my Facebook feed, I would have to travel back in time six years ago to find out when my husband last posted something about me on his page. It was a momentous event: I had just given birth to our daughter, all eight pounds twelve ounces of her.
That evening, I lay in my hospital bed recovering from the trauma of her birth — a C-section after fifteen hours in labor. With adrenaline coursing through my body like I'd just run a triathlon, I wrote up a quick post sharing her name and vitals so our friends and family could virtually celebrate with us. Pleased, I asked my husband to share our announcement on both our Facebook walls.
He agreed to my request but since that day I've been as scarce a sighting on his page, as the Benghazi hearings are on Hillary Clinton's. And much like the way most Republican candidates feel after a humiliating skewering by Donald Trump during a national debate, that makes me a little sad.
Don't get me wrong: I know my husband loves me. He plans sumptuous steak dinner date nights, buys me my favorite Tory Burch fragrance, recalls that I like chai lattes during Starbucks runs, acts as my gentle alarm clock, and texts me flirty messages signed off with secret nicknames.
We're opposites in so many ways. I'm an extroverted social butterfly who draws energy from others, and my more reticent husband needs recharging after a busy week. I'm obsessed with social media; he's social media shy. I'm sentimental and save tickets from concerts we've attended, reviews from restaurants we've dined at, and silly souvenirs (did someone say mouse ears?) from family trips to Disney. My husband saves our tax returns, mortgage notices and credit card receipts. See a pattern here?
That's normal, according to Maria Bailey, author of eight books about marketing to mothers. As Maria says in a recent article for Billboard, "Moms share, on average, six times more on social media than any other demographic."
It's true. I share my opinion on articles I've read, news I've learned, books I've reviewed and food I've tasted. The minute I publish an article, get together with a friend, attend a party, or enjoy an experience with my daughter, I'm compelled to share it on my Facebook page and tweet it on Twitter. All my mom friends do that, too.
My husband, on the other hand, is more likely to check his CNN feed than his Facebook feed, and thinks that tweeting is what birds do. He avoids social media, keeps his opinions to himself, and is convinced that changing his status is a waste of his time.
There are plenty of celebrities who flaunt how fabulous they think their partner is in every post. Unlike those saccharine sweethearts, my husband is allergic to public displays of affection.
Besides, haven't you noticed that a lot of times, doting spouses are living a lie out loud? I'm talking about my recently divorced neighbor who used to share "what a handsome hunk" her now ex-hubby was on Facebook. Not to be outshone in obsequious ingratiating, he would post variations of "I love this woman" about ten times a week. Now he loves someone else.
Yolanda Foster, from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, famously proclaimed, "My husband is my King." He returned the favor, calling her "My Queen," along with other exclamations of mutual adoration. They recently announced their split.
Still, I sometimes wish that my other half would view the world through my lens. From my husband's perspective, he'd rather read a newspaper, spend time with our family and laugh along to The Big Bang Theory. He'd also appreciate not having to rewind the show each time I look up from scrolling down my Facebook feed on my iPhone while commenting on the day's events saying, "Wait, what did I miss?"
A few months ago I set up a family photo shoot for our annual holiday card. They've all been sent out in the mail but I took a picture and posted it on Facebook. True to form, my husband didn't click share — he only put his faith in the power of the stamp to offer good tidings for the season.
I fantasize about what could possibly push him to post about me. We're not having another baby, so that's out. What if I scaled Mount Everest? Won a Pulitzer Prize? Or, I know, became a cast member for a new would-be Bravo show called "The Real Housewives of Social Media"? Now, that would be both hilarious and honest.
Whatever happens — whether I become famous or stay just as I am — don't spend your time looking for an announcement on my husband's page. You won't find it there.
He's committed to me, not to Facebook. I think I can live with that.