Best Unfriends Forever!

What can a blog post about Facebook say about Facebook that hasn't been said before? This could be levelled at anyone saying anything about anything nowadays. Even before electronic media 'democratised' opinion and expression, Michael Stipe was suggesting you could "run a Carbon Black Test on my jaw/and you will find it's all been said before." Fast forward about 25 years (sweet Jesus, I am old) and most of us stand no chance positing anything even vaguely original.

This probably isn't the most enticing way to introduce some thoughts about social networking. But, given that you're equally likely to read unoriginal content elsewhere, you might as well stick with this; partly because you've already invested some of your life, so why not see it through, and partly because you might even enjoy yourself. Remember that?

Anyway, Facebook and social networking-based activities: it occurred to me this afternoon that I spend a significant proportion of my offline life thinking about my online life. I was minding my own business out in the Real World of carbon units and responsibilities, when I realised I was wondering about a few people who used to interact quite commonly with me on Facebook, who now do not. I went through a fairly steady process of downplaying ("It's only Facebook, it's not really life - get a grip, man!"), rationalising ("Is it not simply part of the warp and weft of FB that we find ourselves practically living on some people's pages, then we simply move on to others? All places in time are visited, Ad"), self-doubting (Have I said or done anything offensive of late to souls as sensitive as my own?), self-loathing ("In time, almost everyone gets bored of you, once they get the measure of you - and who can blame 'em?") and, finally, righteous indignation ("Fuck 'em! Do you really like 'em that much? Would you be friends with these people in The Real? Why not just unfriend the bastards - they annoy you most of the bloody time anyway! Bunch of wankers!!"). At the end of this frankly exhausting descent into irrational darkness, I found myself repeating aloud the one word: unfriend. Unfriend. Say it to yourself now: it's an ugly neologism. It's awkward. Contrived. Usually I say 'defriend', which befits the world of espionage and danger: it's not far from 'defuse' or 'detonate'. Much more North Korea than dusty laptop. But Unfriend is the official Facebook term, and there's a lot in that little word.

Have I 'unfriended' anyone offline, I wondered? Well, actually, yes. But it's rarely been such a complete, definitive, purposeful act. It's happened due to long-term neglect (usually mutual, sometimes unilateral) or as a result of a 'bust up'. But the bust up itself was never a conscious act to ensure future friendlessness. And even after the bust up, there were overtures from either side at different times, in an attempt at reconciliation. Things happened, like they do offline, messily and organically. This is very notably not the case online. Most things we do or 'say' are (to varying degrees, depending on the individual) considered or determined. This is the nature of having to type, to post, to wait for a reply, etc etc. We are not physically saying anything. In fact, most things we actually say - even when what comes out of our mouths is important (like at work, rather than down the pub with mates) - are directed by a general aim or argument, but do not require moment-to-moment surveillance. That spontaneity is missing online. And the 'Planned Project' aspect of social networking, where rules and boundaries, procedures and protocol are far more obvious and tangible than they are in offline interaction, make online friendships markedly different. You can Unfriend. This is reversible, but it's also instantaneous and clear-cut.

But what does that all mean? That doing things on a screen takes more thought and time than doing things in the outside world? Maybe. That the quality of a solely online friendship is necessarily different because of the delimited communication available? Very probably. Whether online relationships are inferior to 'real world' ones is another, larger, subject. And possibly for another time. I often think of Educating Rita, and Dr. Bryant's worldly-wise comment when Rita has decided to come back to study after dropping out and returning briefly to her old life: "Found a culture, have you Rita? Found a better song to sing? No, you found a different song to sing."

So: different. Not necessarily worse or better. But I can't help feeling, for all my fulminating and self-doubting and concern about the behaviour of my online mates from time to time, that there is something just too clinical and convenient about pressing the Unfriend button. I think we need the mess and the uncertainty of bloody, fleshy break ups. Like broccoli, we might not want it, but it's good for us.