The Fault Was Mine

About a week ago, having learned how easily the thoughtless use of technology can kill, I resolved that I would make kinder, gentler, use of communications technology. Though it seems counterintuitive, I began by unfriending many people on Facebook. Ultimately, I unfreinded about 100 people, bringing my total down to somwhere just under 150 people. Though I didn't realize it at the time, I came very close to hitting Dunbar's Number, which, according to many social scientists, is the size beyond which social groups tend to fall apart due to lack of true cohesion and unity. If you haven't recently (or ever) conducted this sort of Facebook purge, I highly recommend it. This makes Facebook far more fun: like stepping out of a huge crowd into a room where you are among friends; it makes Facebook far more useful: your own posts are seen more frequently by your actual friends, who are more likely to have something to say about them; and it is psychologically healthy: at least 50 of the people I defreiended were people I very muched wished to be friends with, but who had, alas, demonstrated no reciprocal sentiment—at least not for a very, very long time. To be true to himself, I think, a man must know who his friends aren't, just as he must know who his friends are.


I asked a favor of a friend the other day, despite having spoken with her only three or four times and learning only two things about her: the first was that she was quite nice and given to helping others. The second was that we held diametrically opposed opinions on nearly all of life’s significant philosophical questions. When I don’t agree with people, I seldom ask them for favors, they seldom ask me for favors, and I’m seldom inclined to seek them out in order to offer them favors, so before asking for a favor, I first asked for permission to ask a favor, acknowledging that by doing so, I was, if you looked at it a certain way, already asking for a favor.


Her response was something like, "Why would you need my permission to ask me for a favor?"


Good question, but the answer is obvious: because it isn’t done, that’s why. I have had moments 0f despair, on dark days and during darker nights, when I have gazed at my list of 300 "friends" and thought to myself, "This is a list of those who will be there in my moments of triumph, but not one person on this list would be willing to help me right now." In thinking so, I underestimated many of you—my true friends—and for that, the fault was mine.


Perhaps I grew so bitter, in part, because by friending you on Facebook, I grouped you with many people who were not then, are not now, and never will be my friends. Hence, my goal in unfriending so many was to create a list of people who would NEVER look at their OWN list of friends and think themselves alone.


My first strategy, then, as I attempt to use the power of comminications technology for good, is to maintain positive relationships with as many friends as I can. It's just that, before I could begin that process, I had to first accept the reality that some of those I knew long ago had gone so far as to accept my friendship request only to deny every other form of request I made of them, even the implicit request that they respond to my e-mails; they were my lost friends. I also had to accept that some of my friends were friends only in some theorhetical future, in which I was rich enough, famous enough, or good-looking enough to be allowed in their circle; they were my fantasy friends. Finally, I had to identify the small number of those who, for reasons beyond my comprehension, pretended friendship with me through the electronic media while I yet heard tales of their speaking ill of me or acting against my interests; these were my false friends.


And now, they are gone. I'll have no more imaginary friends of any kind. If I’m willing to name you friend, then I will not only offer help and encouragement, but I'll ask for it when I need it, which is far harder. I am doing this for myself, of course: part of emerging from that darkness I mentioned above. I’ve found that actively using this new technology to reach out to others is not only easy, but incredibly rewarding, and I don’t imagine I’m going to stop any time soon. So if I’ve written you a note recently to remind you that you are talented, or goodly hearted, or to remind you that you have meant a great deal to me, and it seemed a little dorky, I trust you to let that pass. Perhaps it just wasn’t the day you needed to hear that.


But the amazing thing, the unexpected thing, the thing that has profoundly changed my attitude, and at least online, my personality, is the number of people who have expressed to me that they really did need to hear what I was telling them. A handful of people have even gone so far as to tell me that, due to misfortune, or crisis, or the cruelty of others—they needed to hear those words right then. To those of you who have thanked me so graciously – thank you. Thank you for letting me know that the words I said to you had value – that I had value. Thank you for not being my imaginary friends anymore.