In the wake of Facebook’s uncontrollable expansion, what is to be done with our compromised personal lives? Facebook is crossing our social borders and seizing relational territory like a furious Mongol horde. Except instead of barbarian marauders, these soldiers are people we may have met once, but might want nothing to do with.

In the days of yore, before Facebook blurred the lines of decorum, friendships worked differently. On a given night, you might meet somebody at a mutual friend’s house. We’ll call this person “Alex” for the sake of gender ambiguity.

Maybe Alex and you locked eyes over the punch bowl. Perhaps you both reached your Doritos into the dip at the same time, and your hand brushed against Alex’s hand. Alex giggled, and you blushed. Your conversation was effortless. Alex and you left the friend’s house with each other’s phone numbers and the intention of hanging out.

But what if there wasn’t any outright friendship or romantic chemistry between you and Alex? Maybe, you never ended up seeing Alex again. In times past, Alex wouldn’t be able to leave you written messages, know who you’re in a relationship with, or see the pictures you’ve taken amongst friends and family. It would have been over between you two, to nobody’s sadness or detriment.

Nowadays, Alex friend requests you before you get home from the party. You wonder, is that the Alex I just met? Yes, and he/she want to be your bosom buddy. So you oblige, not wanting to look like a jerk who withholds friendship for no reason. Accepting a request on Facebook means you’re signing a contract. A contract that lets Alex into your circle of trust.

Alex has just crossed your boundaries, and is, in effect, invading your life. Alex might leave a message on your wall, assuming that you will think what Alex says is funny. It’s not. Neither is Alex insisting, “we should hangout sometime! TTYL!” How does a person you met just once enter your life and start tearing down your relational walls? Like the Trojans letting in the proverbial Horse, you’ve just accepted an offer you should have refused.

I propose that we should invent a stage of relationship called Facebook Purgatory. With Alex’s friend request lingering on your friend queue, you can make vital decisions about your relationship before Alex comes in like a Hun and pillages your social peace. Alex may have to prove his/her worth to you. If your friendship is valuable to Alex, he/she should be willing to linger in darkness and gnash his/her teeth a little bit before you extend the right hand of grace to them. Sound cruel? You didn’t share the details of your life with Alex when you met him/her, so why should he/she be privy to your Facebook content, some of which is intimate, before you’re actually friends?

You may be realizing as you read this that you are, in fact, an Alex. All those flippant requests you sent out, all those wall posts you made, they weren’t done with a genuine desire for friendship. Guess what? I’ve been Alex before, too. And I’m sorry if I assumed too much about the state of our relationship. In an era of decreasing privacy, when it seems like our entire lives are online for the world to see, it’s hard not to occasionally be an Alex. But in that case, I am ok, and you should be ok, with periodically being banished to someone’s Facebook Purgatory.

Reach columnist Jackson Rohrbaugh at opinion@dailyuw.com.