We all have them: those prudish Facebook friends. They’re the type of people you’re actually not even friends with in real life, because, well, they’re prudes. And no one likes a prude, especially one who vocalizes it.

Unlike most people on Facebook, my “friend” count is low and around 200 people… with about 30 waiting for a “friend confirmation” that will never come. I have long learned not to “ignore” them, because they’ll just come back again. So now I mentally ignore them without actually pressing the “ignore” option. It’s not a superiority thing, but rather a “I’m saving your from my vulgarity” thing. I’ve confirmed friends and watched them drop like flies – posting articles I’ve written about sexual asphyxiation will do that.

While I do not curb my sick sense of humor with real friends, the others get a diluted version of it, or usually, nothing at all. I firmly believe there’s no sense in wasting my time and amazingly offensive lines on people who will either not appreciate them, or, even worse, delete them as if they were nothing; as if time, wit and current pop cultural references were not mulled over and taken into account.

I recently noticed that a Facebook friend had posted a status regarding a drink that she and her husband were making called “Dripping Wet Pink.” Although I’m no expert, I am a reasonable gal with my mind in the gutter 24/7, so in my head this drink is clearly named after a vagina. If it were called “Throbbing Hard Shaft,” that would be about a cock. This is actually simple stuff. In my PG-rated way, I commented: “that sounds beyond dirty… it’s always the quiet ones.”

Not one of my finer literary moments, but it gave me a laugh, and I felt it remained within the understood guidelines of what this particular person would deem appropriate. Nope; she deleted it. Was it the word dirty? Was it speculation that she and her husband perhaps got a little kinky every now and then? Not sure. There were no f-bombs, no mentioning of body parts, no indication in the slightest to anything even remotely sexual.

It was in that moment that I not only decided that I would never comment on her status again, but I’d help others like me – the vulgar-minded people of the world – get away with commenting on Facebook without being deleted. Sure, we ultimately don’t care that we’ve been deleted, but if time and effort is made to conjure up a response to a status, then some sort of acceptance that maybe not everyone is living in a prudish world should be reached. Here are some top pointers to consider when trying to devise a comment that will stand the test of the delete button:

    1. Sex is bad. To your prudish friends, the very mention of sex is wrong. They only did it twice for their two kids, and now only on special occasions like every other birthday. As for oral sex? Well that’s a damn abomination, and should be outlawed in the remaining states where it’s still legal. Any comment that insinuates even the existence of sex, oral, anal or otherwise, will be immediately removed. No need to get everyone riled up at the PTA meeting on Monday because you had a sense of humor about getting cum in your eye after going down on what’s his name from that place and chose to reference it on another’s Facebook page.

    2. It’s a penis and a vagina. It should be noted that women have vaginas and men have penises. In no way, shape or form should they be called anything but, and even in the cases that you must bring them up, make sure it has a reasonable biological importance, ie. “I have a vagina because I’m a woman.” Words to avoid: pussy, cock, prick, dick, pecker, pink taco, meat curtains, beaver, box, cunt, gash and meat pole, just to name a few. Cock, despite being one of my favorite words in the world, has no place on a Facebook page unless it’s followed by “a-doodle-doo.” And unless you live on farm, you shouldn’t be quoting roosters.

    3. Words hurt. Fuck is the most horrific word in the history of the world – did you know that? It’s vile and disgusting, and should never ever be used – especially if you’re trying to avoid having a comment deleted. Even writing “you’re fucking amazing and fucking beautiful and fucking smart,” will get you deleted, reprimanded and probably blocked. Fuck is what the indignant use to communicate anger or displeasure, and therefore should not share space with a “friend’s” photo of their lake house, Range Rover and their glory days back in high school. This should really be common sense for those who use their heads, but us perverts use our crotches to make even life-altering decisions, so we’re easily confused.

    4. Private jokes are shameful. Now that Betty Sue is friends with Hilary from the Uppity Women’s Club, she does not want you creeping onto her Facebook page and littering it with private jokes from her past. Can’t you see she’s trying to make a good impression? Not only will a private joke possibly bring up an embarrassing moment, but, and more importantly, it creates a bond between you and said friend and in doing so, alienates new friends of status. Alienating new friends of status will ultimately lead to termination of Uppity Women’s Club membership, confiscation of invitation to all future neighborhood block parties, and eventual hanging of effigy in the rose-adorned gazebo in the town square.

    5. Disclaimers are your friends. While for most tried-and-true prudes disclaimers are not enough, hey, at least you made an attempt at protecting those who lack the sense of humor minimum to just let certain things roll off their back. I always like to start with: “I’m sure this will offend someone somewhere, like my grandmother, but…” Granted, its success rate is on the low side, it does help in certain cases, and if a deletion does happen, at least I can sleep better at night knowing that I prefaced it with a warning. Proper commenting is about thinking ahead to the possible repercussions of your words.

However, despite these five suggestions, there is no way to know what is going on inside the head of a prude. To be honest, they’re a wild yet oppressed bunch, so they can act up without regard to how they come off to the rest of us (read: uptight). Prudes are their own brand of crazy, and while I’m sure they make sense to each other, to the rest of us, they’re sort of a buzzkill. It’s hard to find the right brand of crazy in this world, the kind of crazy that understands our own craziness, so when you do, squeeze tight and don’t let go. It was John Hughes who wrote: “When you grow up, your heart dies.” For some people, so does their sense of humor.