Too many fake friends

Too many fake friends 05/04/2004 07:45 PM

 Too Many Fake Friends
By Jim Louderback
May 4, 2004

It probably started with instant messaging—technology's insidious redefining of personal relationships. My AIM buddy list is over 50 people long, with most of those actually coworkers. And while I value and respect each and every one of them, I'd hardly call many of them buddies. And I'll bet most of them feel the same about me.

A buddy's one thing, but a friend is so much more. And social software, which lets you leverage your friends to make new friends, really has me really concerned.

Back in the second grade, my best friend, Jay Keese, had a killer Hot Wheels collection. A BMOP (Big Man on Playground), he still liked me, for which I'll be eternally grateful. My other friends were accidents of geography—they lived in the neighborhood and we played together out of convenience.

As I grew up, I developed a small set of good friends—mostly those too weird to be accepted by the tough guys or the fast crowd. Later, I discovered that Dead Heads love everyone, so I promptly became one too. But I've never doled out friendships easily. I have a wonderful set of acquaintances everywhere, but real friends are less common.

But the new and oh-so-exclusive Orkut system, started by a Google programmer, has changed all that. It has redefined "friend" just as IM redefined "buddy." Now I've got more than 50 friends—some of whom I barely even know.

Like the ancient Prieure de Sion secret society, you have to be invited into Orkut. New members describe themselves, and then create networks of friends. They can then join groups built around shared interests, send each other messages, rate existing friends and search for new ones. My buddy Chris Pirillo—the Lockergnome, an ex-TechTVer—invited me in. But as I signed up, Orkut presented me with a metaphysical question: Was Chris really my friend?

Hmm. We'd worked together at TechTV. I had a blast attending and speaking at his Gnomedex conference last year. I've learned a lot from him and we've shared drinks and dinner. Is that a friend? Well, given that I wasn't going to get into Orkut without saying yes, I threw caution to the wind and said "Yes."

Since then I've received many invites from Orkut members asking to become part of my growing circle of friends. Some, like Robert, John, Brooke, Cathy, and Rosie, really are pals. Rosie's actually one of my oldest buddies still talking to me—we've known each other since we were 15. Others, including Oliver Muto and Marc Canter, are folks I've respected and admired for years, but never been actually palled around with.

The Orkut style of friendship reminds me of Dr. Phil's recent visit to the Late Show. Letterman, clearly uncomfortable by the Doctor's insightfully personal remarks, shifted gears by asking Dr. Phil to be his friend. Let's go out and get some steaks, he pleaded, and drink some beers at the bar. Let's be friends.

Is that what friends are? Partners for brewski guzzling and cow chomping? Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of guzzling and gobbling with my chums. But I think it's more than that. There's a sense of shared experience and trust.

And that's all sadly lacking on these social networks. Instead, friendship is being co-opted for more insalubrious purposes.

Take Steve. Looking to break some inane record of superficiality, he's personally contacted hundreds of Orkut members, asking to be added as a friend. Is his esteem so low that he craves the chimerical kinship of many he's never even met? I don't know, but like a complete sap, I accepted his offer of friendship, before realizing I was just being used.

Canter, the founder of MediaBand and what became Macromedia, is another Orkut slut. Marc's currently helping us launch a new version of our gaming site 1up.com, so I had a chance to find out the real reasons behind his apparent affability.

"It's all about marketing, baby," he chortled. "More names for my list!'

I was crushed. And I thought he actually liked me. Instead, I was just another peep ripe for the spamming.

But the worst was yet to come. I recently uncovered an even more disquieting situation. It appears that a friend of mine who will remain nameless had been harvesting my other friends to artificially boost his own circle. Take "Tom," for example. There's absolutely no way this "friend" would ever know Tom. Yet there he was, perched smugly inside my other friend's network. This so-called friend of mine was stealing my real friends to feed his own nefarious schemes.

Is this a cheapening of friendship? Or an expanding? I find it hard enough to be a good friend to the 10 or so folks I really cherish. With all this newfound comradeship, I think I'll be spreading myself a little thin.

I've been getting five or ten invites a week, though, to join up into someone's circle of friends—whether on Orkut, the business-oriented LinkedIn, or a wide range of other social networks. I used to just accept them all—like I did Steve and Marc, but now I'm not so sure. I rejected a few, but then I felt guilty about it for days. What if that poor lonely soul really considered me a true friend? Could I have just crushed a fragile, needy ego?

Well here's a message to everyone I've rejected, and will reject. It's really nothing personal. It's not that I don't want to be your friend, because I really do. I'd just rather we became acquainted the old fashioned way. So if you send me an invite to join your network, please don't be insulted if I turn you down. It's not that I don't like you. I just have an old-fashioned concept of what makes a "friend."

Although if your invite happens to mention a super-neat collection of Hot Wheels, I just might reconsider. Especially if you're going to share.

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