The Facebook boot

Just call me Scott. Scott no friends. Isn’t that the old joke?A few months ago I detonated my Facebook site. Set a bomb to it. Kicked its sorry self into the internet ether. And now, I’m friendless, but I’m a free woman. I feel liberated.And, if I’m honest, I feel a tiny bit up myself being able to say “no, I’m not on Facebook actually”. I feel like I’ve shunned Channel 10 for ABC2, ditched the bottle of moscato for a glass of shiraz. Passed on the Big Mac for an organic felafel.Because Facebook felt so damned bad for me. We just didn’t left click together.The whole reason I started a site in the first place was for a social experiment. Let’s face it, I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.Almost instantly I was inundated with “friend” requests from old high school aquaintances. I thought, OK, this should be fun. But I was mighty glad to leave high school behind the first time, and Facebook felt like being dragged straight back to 1995, rather than joining the millennium age. I felt like Alex Drake in Ashes to Ashes – you know that awesome series about the cop being shot and waking up in 1983?The only different here was I was able to keep my current hair cut and I wasn’t wearing an REM T-shirt and purple Doc Marten eight-ups.I deleted my site because of the unnamed, slightly uncomfortable/guilty feeling I had every time I logged on to it. The feeling that I should be doing something real, rather than partaking in this shallow, voyeuristic, self-absorbed excuse for socialising.It’s not socialising, or if it is, it’s damn lazy. I cancelled it because of an email suggesting most of the people who find you on Facebook are people who actually don’t particularly like you very much. Although this message was a little more blunt than that. You lose your sixth sense on Facebook. There’s no crazy person buffer.I cancelled it because I don’t have time for it yet I found that by failing to respond to other’s pokes and the likes in an acceptable amount of time, I was unknowingly insulting people. I cancelled it because people who I was “friends” with had no trouble snobbing me in the street. I cancelled it because my very best friend Boo wouldn’t be caught dead on Facebook and she is my great inspiration. “Are you on Facebook?” people ask. Constantly. As if you’re not truly real and present and with it unless you’re represented on the screen.When did a person in the flesh become not enough?It seems you need proof that you’re fully functioning in the world, via tagged photos. You need to prove to others you’re fun by virtually “poking” one another.I don’t need a Facebook site to validate my status. And my friends, I’m proud to say, can be counted on my hands.