I was sitting on the back porch on a recent Friday evening wearing my usual evening attire:  ancient jeans, a t-shirt and worn sneakers. I was typically dirty after a day spent caring for the two horses in the backyard, the two house-horses, Jasper and Ruckus, as well as Bella the French Spaniel and Tilly the Cat.

That is to say, I was appropriately dressed for what passes for my life.

It was a lovely night in California. Temps were in the mid- 70s and there was nary a bug to be seen. If not for the ominous billowing black smoke clouds in the not-far enough- distance, it would have been completely delightful.

As I sat with an eye on the fire, my soundtrack was the reassuring and constant whine of nearby firetrucks and low flying, water-dropping helicopters. As one does in these situations, I scrolled aimlessly through Facebook and Instagram.

Obviously I was looking for distraction. But instead of news from friends, or photos of Great Danes, horses and memes, I was hit with a barrage of advertisements.

It dawned on me that considering all of the noise about the precise algorithms social media platforms use to snoop on and target consumers, mine don’t know me at all. Which, considering the time I waste on these platforms while avoiding doing anything useful,  is remarkable.

Meta, (Instagram and Facebook) in particular has obviously confused me with a really old, very rich woman with exceptionally bad taste.

There was post after post of really expensive, yet frighteningly ugly dresses. I cannot remember the last time I wore a dress. It probably was last summer when the temperatures hovered the hundreds. The outfit in question was a cheap little sun dress that I bought a dozen years ago. Possibly at Old Navy.

Meta apparently also believes I need to accessorize the hideous clothing I would never buy. So there were dozens of commercials for pricey, horrendous looking sandals with towering heels and peek-a-boo toes.

I rarely wear heels these days, mostly because they get stuck in the sand when I take care of the horses. More importantly, I have never, ever, ever worn open-toed sandals. I have a weird phobia about my toes.

If Meta paid attention, it would know this.

Moving on.

Meta also offers me a zillion links to exercise apps. I will give them a little leeway here because I do online workouts. But only the free ones. (Shout out to “Yoga with Adrienne!”)

But apparently Meta not only believes I’m ancient, but that I’m virtually incapacitated.

As I scrolled I came across pitch after pitch for chair yoga, and seated aerobics, which I didn’t even know was possible. All were set to a background of what Meta must think is soothing music. It isn’t. It made me grind my teeth.

Which may be why they also send me meditation apps. Wrong again. I hate meditating. I get anxiety from Yoga practices that include it. So fail.

Perhaps that is why I also get the medication ads.  Constantly.

I don’t know how to pronounce most of these wonder drugs, nor do I understand what they are for. But apparently Meta thinks I need them.

By now Meta should be aware of the fact that unless I can buy it in bulk at Costco, I rarely purchase medication. If do get non- OTC medication, it is usually a pain reliever prescribed by a doctor after a riding accident.

Meta doesn’t care.

It should. Because if it actually targeted me – rather than an arbitrary person my age – they might sell something.

I promise I would click on equestrian geared ads. Companies like Samshield which sells luscious horse show clothing or Helite which makes air bag safety vests for equestrians are things that make me drool.

Images I’d open would include photos of stern but serious veterinarians pushing expensive, trendy and often worthless horse supplements. Dramatic photos of before and after pictures of previously drab, but now glowing horses would totally suck me in.

The drug ads I’m interested in include Adequan and GastroGuard. You know, really expensive medications that I do purchase. For my horses.

If Meta’s fancy algorithms were accurate, I’d receive repeated offers from dog and horse insurance companies. There would be seductive ads showing brand new pickups pulling gorgeous shiny horse trailers.

Sigh.

Since I had time, I tried deleting the ads. Meta gave me a bunch of choices to click on telling them why I was doing so, but none included the option of, “this is a butt-ugly product” or “there is nothing about this that relates to me.”

Moreover, the more ads I deleted, the more they sent me similar ones.

After an hour or so down this rabbit hole, I was getting really annoyed. I looked up. The fire was almost out.

Phew.

What I’d really like from Meta would be a link to the amazing LA County Fire Department to thank them for keeping us all safe.  That I’d use.