by Mike Madrid
Last night I went to see a play that a friend was in. My friend and I have a lot in common. We have a similar sense of humor, and are both huge fans of the same comic books. We’ll often exchange e-mails during the day, or share bits of information that we think the other might be interested in. He has been supportive about my book that was recently published, and about the artwork that I create for my website. So I felt it was important to support him by going to see his play. Because we’re friends.
When the play was over, I went to find my friend to congratulate my friend on his performance. When I saw him, offered my hand. “Hi, I’m Mike Madrid.” Though we are friends, and communicate regularly, we had never met before. You see, we’re Facebook “friends.”
I had heard of “social networking” sites like MySpace and Friendster. But I assumed they were designed for much young people (and the older sexual predators who wanted to meet them). Frankly, I was a bit mystified by the whole thing. When I received an invitation to join Facebook from an acquaintance with a hunger for networking, I initially ignored it. But eventually I signed up out of curiosity. I filled out a bit of personal information about myself, added a photo of myself, and then went to bed. And sort of forgot about the whole thing.
The next morning, I found an e-mail waiting for me. Someone I had known some years ago had added me as a Facebook “friend.” How had she found me, or been aware that I had even joined? I “confirmed” that we were friends, and then wasn’t quite sure what to do next. I’m not one to read instructions, so I fumbled my way through Facebook in the beginning. Every day, new “friend” requests would pop up in my e-mail box. And I, in turn, would run across more people on Facebook who I knew, and added them to my list of ‘friends.” Facebook even made suggestions of people I might know, to add as “friends.” I would get “poked” by some people, which sounded vaguely dirty, and a little offensive. I’d receive “hugs,” or be sent nonexistent virtual cocktails or Louis Vuitton gifts. I honestly wasn’t sure what the whole point of it was.
A few days after I had joined, I ran into a flesh and blood friend of mine on the street. He looked at me with an irritated expression and said, “You’ve only been on Facebook for a few days, and you already have more “friends” than me.” I hadn’t realized it was a competition, but I had to keep reminding myself that this was social networking. And apparently, it came with many of the complications of real life social interactions.
Now, I assumed I was going to have some sort of personal relationship with my Facebook “friends.” But, once you add a Facebook “friend” to you list, some will drop you a note to ask how you’re doing, or thank you for the “add,” but most then will disappear into the void. I realized I was just a new addition for some people to add to their roster, another “friend” to add to their “friends” list, one more charm to add to the bracelet, to show where they had been. Once added, I never once heard from them. There were also people who I added as “friends” who I then had second thoughts about. If I deleted them, would they find out and get mad? Here, alone in my home at my computer, I was feeling all of the pressures of social groups.
Now, the reason I consider who I add as a “friend” is the fact that these people now have access to my life. Or rather, the version of my life that I want to present to the world via the Internet. And, it works the same for my “friends” as well. The key, the central hub of Facebook, is the Newsfeed. This is a page that is constantly updating all of the things that you and your “friends” have posted on their pages. Constantly watching, and monitoring, the Newsfeed gives everyone the opportunity to be Big Brother. A quick scan of the Newsfeed shows you everything that is going on in people’s lives without you having to be intimately involved. I now think twice about what I put on my Facebook page, because I know that all of my 300 +“friends,” and potentially their “friends,” can see almost every move that I make on the site. And it’s all done without any context.
A Facebook “friend” might post photos of a new puppy or their child in a Halloween costume on their page. Perhaps an interesting news tidbit or comments on last night’s television shows. And as their “friend,” you can make comments like “Aww, cute!” or “OMG, dude! Last’s night episode of ‘Real Housewives of Atlanta was bananas! Don’t even get me started!!” These comments are then visible to all of your mutual “friends”, and sometimes “friends of friends.” And so, as more and more people (some of whom you may not know) chime in with their thoughts, you can be pulled into an ersatz conversation. In this way, Facebook is like the back fence where you used to chitchat with your neighbors, or the legendary office water cooler where coworkers gather to discuss their worlds. In a time when people’s lives are becoming more fragmented and insular—where they live in condo complexes and don’t know their neighbors, or work in solitary home offices—Facebook fills a certain void. It allows people to connect, but again, much of it is done with no context. But there’s a downside as well. Some of my “friends” have “friends” who I dislike strictly based on the comments they make on Facebook. I’ve never met these people, but if I ever do, I’ll feel like I already know enough about them to not like them. Because of Facebook.
Besides sharing some of the more mundane events in “friends’” lives, Facebook also gives me a glimpse into more serious things. I might see that a “friend” has switched their status from “single” to “in a relationship.” Or sometimes it works the other way around. When I saw that a married “friend” changed her status to “in a relationship,” I knew there must be trouble at home. But I never had to actually deal with hearing the details directly, or the awkward prospect of having to react to bad news. I know if a “friend’s” parent is ill, or has passed away by reading updates on the Newsfeed. I can learn that a “friend” or their spouse is scheduled for surgery or undergoing chemotherapy that following day. And with all of these dispatches, I have the opportunity to post an encouraging comment for all to see. “Thinking of you at this time.” or “Good luck, I know you’ll do fine.”
The public aspect of Facebook brings up another important factor. It is social networking. It’s social—the emphasis is not on intimate private exchanges; most of the action happens in public. I’m always confused when I see what I consider to be private exchanges volleyed back and forth on “friend’s” pages for all to read. They will make plans to have cocktails, even exchange (no longer) private cell phone numbers on this public forum. They could very well be having this communication in private, but there is a feeling that they want the rest of us to know that we’re not invited to have drinks with them. “Friends” will regularly engage in these public displays of private interactions to give us a glimpse into their lives, but just enough to, in the end, exclude us. It all feels a bit like two high school girls whispering in the back of class about something that you’re not cool enough to know about. Except, now there are 300 or more people within (virtual) earshot.
When you actually run into a Facebook “friend” in the flesh, you have to prepared for a new style of interaction. For the people who you had actually already knew, conversation can now move along very briskly. No need to catch them up with what’s been going on in your life, they already know it from Facebook. “Hey, I saw on Facebook that your book came out. Congratulations!” they might say. Or, “Hey, I saw your vacation pics on Facebook. Trip looked amazing.” All you need to do is smile and say thank you, no need to elaborate. But awkward situations can arise. You may be “friends” with someone, but not be “friends” with their spouse. But you know the spouse is going through some family drama or has an illness, from you “friend’s” Facebook updates. So, you are out in public and you run into your “friend” and said spouse, who you meet for the first time. Do you offer the spouse encouraging words about their situation, even though you (and 500 people) have only heard this news second hand from your “friend”? It’s a topic that my copy of Brook Brothers’ As A Gentleman Would Say hasn’t addressed yet. When you part ways with your “friend,” there’s now a new farewell. “Ok, I’ll see you on Facebook.”
Then there are the “friends” that you’ve never met in person, but only via Facebook. When you meet this “friend” in person for the first time, you might think you know what to expect. You’ve seen pictures of this person and their friends drunkenly playing board games, or read their list of Top Five favorite movies. You’ve chuckled at their daily or hourly witty, irreverent observations about life that they post on their Facebook page. But then you find yourself in a situation where you meet this person, and you are confronted with a weak handshake, downcast eyes, and stilted attempts at conversation. That’s because people can invent a persona for themselves on Facebook. From their keyboards they can concoct a bubblier, exciting incarnation of themselves. You’ve just met the real person, and it brings back the Wizard of Oz’ emphatic plea, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”
I really made me feel like the future of our Orwellian fears had finally arrived when I learned a “friend” had passed away, and the news came by way of the Facebook Newsfeed. My “friend” had died suddenly and unexpectedly, but his Facebook page lived on. There, immortalized for the rest of the week, were his last thoughts about how he was eagerly anticipating that night’s episode of his favorite TV program. And, for weeks to follow, my departed "friend's" Facebook page filled up with farewell messages and favorite memories from his friends, and “friends.” His Facebook page become a final monument to him, that would, presumably, live on perpetually. It was odd, but strangely moving at the same time.
Now, it might seem like all of this is very cold and impersonal. But for some people of “a certain age” (like myself) Facebook is actually quite useful. Twenty years ago, we all didn’t have e-mail addresses, and phone numbers written on little slips of paper at office going away-parties were lost when a pair of jeans were tossed in the washing machine. Now I have not only have a chance to reconnect with people, Facebook also tells me when it’s their birthday, or when something happened in their lives. I can be a better friend without having to make a lot of effort. It’s not an intimate conversation over a glass of wine, but it’s more contact that I’ve had with them in years. And some of the best “friends” that I have are people I’ve never met before. I’ve had “friends” add me because they’ve seen my website or read my book. And, oddly enough, I have more regular interaction with them than I do with some of my real friend “friends.”
When I finally met my “friend” after his performance, he was thankfully as funny and charming as he appears on Facebook. We chatted for a bit, and when we said goodbye and he said, “So, we’ll hang out.” I agreed, and left thinking that perhaps he might make the translation from “friend” to friend.