I Digg that MySpace on Facebook has me LinkedIn

Until recently, I admittedly carried myself with a holier-than-thou attitude about online social networking. "You Internet-obsessed freaks are never going to get me," I proudly proclaimed.

The turning point came when a business acquaintance I think of as the antithesis of cool called me out for being socially unaware.

Now I belong to three social networking sites. One is for friends and family, one is for business and I don't know what the third one is for, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. At first, all that tweeting, poking and digging caused me distress. Why so rude? What's next ... spitting, punching and clobbering? I began to wonder if those who believe the Internet is the work of the devil (and you know who you are) might have a point, but I persevered.

Now, I too, have people I haven't thought about since the fourth grade "friending" me. I imagine them thinking, "Hmmm ... wonder what that girl who sat in front of me in Mrs. Heffernan's class is doing? I'll search for her, find out everything there is to know, reveal as much about me and never communicate with her again except in an 'intended for the masses' sort of way."

Surely, the memory of my lopsided pigtails has not been burning in their brains all this time. More likely, I was some random thought on some random day, and social networking provided a way to confirm that they look better than I do now.

If you are new to the whole thing, here is fair warning. Inevitably, your age, or some other personal tidbit that you prefer to keep private, is on view for a while until you figure out that you can hide it. Once, I Googled myself and all kinds of stuff came up. I had innocently forgotten to hide some information, and due to some Search Engine Optimization mumbo jumbo, it was being broadcast to the world.

Try as I might, nothing worked to remove the offending search results. I reset my privacy settings. I prayed for guidance. I stood in the middle of the room and stamped my feet. (I knew that wouldn't work, but it was kind of fun.) What I learned was an invaluable lesson in humility. The truth is, nobody really cares how old I am. Who knew?

That tagging of pictures thing is another matter, though. What evil genius is responsible for this invasion of the privacy snatchers? Who thought it was a good idea for people to be able to dredge up old photos of you, let's say, not looking your best, and put them in some online photo album? Then they label it as you, triggering an e-mail saying that you've been "tagged."

Gee, thanks! I've been wondering how to make that picture visible to my boss and mother-in-law at the same time. It also can be viewed by anyone that you, the perpetrator of the tag, has befriended, and since you boast 500 friends to my paltry 50, my shame is complete. How may I thank you? Perhaps a stale fruitcake at Christmas?

Your handiwork has undone my carefully laid plan to maintain steely control of my image as I delve gingerly into spilling my guts on the Internet. My profile photo, obscuring anything remotely unflattering through strategic limb placement, was chosen for naught. My makeup, artfully smudged and rivaled only by the painting techniques of the masters, is inconsequential. You have ruined the carefully crafted facade of Internet-worthy ME by not keeping your stupid photo album in the drawer where it belongs.

I know I should relax about this and I'm working on it. I'll tweet about it when I figure it out. In the meantime, let this serve as a warning to any tag-happy friends and family out there: I will hunt you down and destroy you. I mean, the offending image. Or at least untag it.

I guess online social networking has good and bad points. For now, I'll keep tweeting and poking and digging. I'm having fun figuring it all out and, to tell the truth, it's kind of nice knowing that my best friend and I from fourth grade still look equally fabulous.

Brenda Braye is a freelance marketing and public relations specialist. Communicate with her at brendabraye@gmail.com.