It’s time to add some baggage to the word “like”.

While the conversation rages about Open Graph and Facebook’s new grab to dominate the internet, I’m stuck on the change in semantics. Suddenly we’re being prompted to “like” rather than “become a fan” of posts, pages and other content all over the web. This is more awkward than it might seem. No longer am I a “fan” of Coke or Guitar Hero, I’m now a… “liker”? “One who likes”? When I visit the brand’s page, is that a “Like Page”? Maybe an “Online Community For Likers”? And don’t banner ads seem a tinge bald and desperate when the call to action reads “Like Our Brand!”? It’s a syntactic hornet’s nest. So what is it about that four-letter-word that promotes it to such an integral position everywhere we look online?

Let’s start with what was- the button that rose to prominence and ubiquity, only to be banished entirely from Facebook. “Become a Fan” – a three word prompt that carries a surprising amount of commitment for such a seemingly small ask. Not only does this tiny button ask us to change, it wants us to transform into something as radical as a fanatic. Hovering over the little gray box I have to ask myself, if only subconsciously, “Sure I like that product, but am I fanatical about it?” Unless we’re talking Star Wars, Led Zeppelin or The Simpsons, the answer is most likely no. And no button is going to convince me otherwise.

Which is where “like” comes in, strutting its refreshingly non-committal stuff. “Like” has a host of meanings, but judging from the always-adjacent thumbs up, it’s most likely this definition we want: “to be suitable or agreeable to.” Which begs the question, what don’t I find at least somewhat agreeable? “Like” is a vast expanse, covering things I feel lukewarm about, things I’m fond of and objects towards which I exhibit a smoldering passion. But give me a sunny day and some good music and there are few things I don’t like- which makes the button a notoriously easy impulse click.

And with the click comes some surprising commitment. If you “like” my zydeco-funk band on Facebook, you’re going to start getting our updates on your wall, our Facebook messages in your inbox, Facebook invites to our latest gig- hell, you’ll even show up on our list of fans (er, “likers”) on our page.

We were recently told that a Facebook fan is worth $3.60 to a brand. But considering how much time you might have to spend scrolling through a brand’s updates, deleting their messages and ignoring their invites, the real question is, how much does it cost you? And is that what it actually means to “like” something? Is that the kind of commitment I should expect when a colleague asks me if I like a specific candy bar or toothpaste?

It was a smart choice on Facebook’s part. But they’ve attached some fairly hefty strings to a once carefree verb.