Won't you be my friend?
Okay. Let's just put it out there that I pretty much Facebook and/or Google every person I ever meet (whom I think is Facebook- and/or Google-able, anyway). Frankly, I'm not embarrassed because I know that everyone else does the same thing.
There does, however, exist a level of dignity on Facebook that I refuse to cross. That, my readers, is the sin of "friend"-ing someone whom I have JUST met.
Would you call somebody whose number you'd just acquired the previous night? OF COURSE NOT! Would you contact last night's date to rave about the good time that was had? Not unless you wanted to prematurely drop a few notches on the Mysteriously Alluring Stranger scale.* Then why the hell wouldn't you wait a few days and play the oh-yeah-I-met-you-but-was-too-busy-with-my-cool-life-to-officially-request-your-friendship-just-yet game?
Look. We all want people to think we're cool. But there is nothing more UN-cool than to demonstrate any effort in this quest. In fact, in recent years, it has become decidedly cool to shun any idea that we actually may BE cool, opting instead to self-deprecate by lamenting our alcohol intolerance and stressing our penchant for staying at home on Friday nights to watch whatever may be at the top of our Netflix queue.**
Does anybody actually fall for this ruse? No. But must we all continue to play this game? Well, for reasons unknown... yes! And on Sunday, when you open an email that was sent at 7:24 a.m., informing you that the stranger with whom you exchanged maybe four awkward-as-fuck sentences at your mutual friend's birthday party that you'd left SIX-AND-A-HALF HOURS AGO wants to be your "friend" (a word that has lost all meaning, ironically, since the advent of Facebook)... you can't help but judge him just a teeny bit for not abiding by the tacit code of Pretending To Have a Life.
Like in most cases of pointing fingers, I suppose this condemnation comes from a total lack of comprehension... which gives way to fear... and then sometimes hate. WHY don't these people play the waiting game, like the rest of us do? WHY must they tamper with our understanding of acceptable social customs of cynical twenty-something New Yorkers? To think that my interpretation of these rules, a codex of carefully orchestrated gestures and language that few people ever truly master, has been completely off-base is just too great a headache for me to even begin to fathom. Ergo, I don't bother. Instead, I judge... even when I know deep in my heart that I am no better.
In the meantime, I'm rereading my profile. I'm not sure that it projects as high a level of editorial apathy that I'd like.
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* Since I partake neither in the activity of collecting people's phone numbers nor going out on dates, for the sake of journalistic (?) integrity, I concede that this is all purely speculative.
** Author points to previous footnote, introductory paragraph, and pretty much this entire blog as examples of this trend.
There does, however, exist a level of dignity on Facebook that I refuse to cross. That, my readers, is the sin of "friend"-ing someone whom I have JUST met.
Would you call somebody whose number you'd just acquired the previous night? OF COURSE NOT! Would you contact last night's date to rave about the good time that was had? Not unless you wanted to prematurely drop a few notches on the Mysteriously Alluring Stranger scale.* Then why the hell wouldn't you wait a few days and play the oh-yeah-I-met-you-but-was-too-busy-with-my-cool-life-to-officially-request-your-friendship-just-yet game?
Look. We all want people to think we're cool. But there is nothing more UN-cool than to demonstrate any effort in this quest. In fact, in recent years, it has become decidedly cool to shun any idea that we actually may BE cool, opting instead to self-deprecate by lamenting our alcohol intolerance and stressing our penchant for staying at home on Friday nights to watch whatever may be at the top of our Netflix queue.**
Does anybody actually fall for this ruse? No. But must we all continue to play this game? Well, for reasons unknown... yes! And on Sunday, when you open an email that was sent at 7:24 a.m., informing you that the stranger with whom you exchanged maybe four awkward-as-fuck sentences at your mutual friend's birthday party that you'd left SIX-AND-A-HALF HOURS AGO wants to be your "friend" (a word that has lost all meaning, ironically, since the advent of Facebook)... you can't help but judge him just a teeny bit for not abiding by the tacit code of Pretending To Have a Life.
Like in most cases of pointing fingers, I suppose this condemnation comes from a total lack of comprehension... which gives way to fear... and then sometimes hate. WHY don't these people play the waiting game, like the rest of us do? WHY must they tamper with our understanding of acceptable social customs of cynical twenty-something New Yorkers? To think that my interpretation of these rules, a codex of carefully orchestrated gestures and language that few people ever truly master, has been completely off-base is just too great a headache for me to even begin to fathom. Ergo, I don't bother. Instead, I judge... even when I know deep in my heart that I am no better.
In the meantime, I'm rereading my profile. I'm not sure that it projects as high a level of editorial apathy that I'd like.
-----
* Since I partake neither in the activity of collecting people's phone numbers nor going out on dates, for the sake of journalistic (?) integrity, I concede that this is all purely speculative.
** Author points to previous footnote, introductory paragraph, and pretty much this entire blog as examples of this trend.
posted by Anny at 12:47 AM
3 Comments:
I'm guessing you met him at Lisa's party. Maybe he was so enamored that he just HAD to reconnect with you as soon as possible. Or maybe he was drunk-friending?
haha i know who you are talking about :)
is it weird that i bookmarked your blog?
hey anny! i found your blog in arielle's blog list - i love it! i think you write some pretty hilarious entries - i think your cynicism is fabulous, and i mean it as a compliment.
take care!
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