The Face Hunters
After my recent Twitter article, I thought it was about time to vent my inner turmoil on the spurious nature of that other great ‘social-networking tool’, Facebook. Like Twitter, I arrived at Facebook somewhat late in the day, confirming my ineptitude as a social networker. Being genetically antisocial and with absolutely no inkling to have people find me and ‘reconnect’ after years of estrangement, I saw no use in having my mug, as dashing as it might be, pasted online for all and sundry to gawp at.
Yet with so many of my friends taking to the format and sending me unrelenting invites to view their wedding pictures and holiday snaps online (incorrectly assuming that I actually want to see them), I reluctantly signed away my personal information so that people would stop complaining that I was out of touch with the technological zeitgeist.
As with all new gadgets, I was temporarily addicted. I felt it important to let everyone know what I was doing at all times of the day, via the ingenious ‘status update’ (Jonesy is drinking coffee / Jonesy is wondering what the neighbours are fighting about / Jonesy is chuckling at the thought of wearing a Michael Myers Halloween mask to Sainsbury’s / Jonesy is convinced that you want to know all of these frivolous things about his life). Gradually I found it tedious, not least when certain friends chose to update me about the extent of their hangovers, about their opinions of Z-Factor contestants and celebrities I had never heard of, about things that one would normally regard as terribly personal and not for public consumption (Jane is waxing her bikini line and can thoroughly recommend Veet).
So I stopped using Facebook. I thought I was rid of it, but like that parking fine you forgot to pay three years ago, it eventually catches up with you, and this time in the form of old friends. And I don’t just mean friends you’ve not been in touch with for the last few years – which is perfectly reasonable – I’m talking about school friends that you have not seen for 25 years (amend according to age). Your last memories of these people are adorned by oddities including Gobstoppers and Coke Bottles and Max Headroom and Wham (again, amend according to age). You have no idea what their personalities are like now, you have no idea who they really are. Yet they have chosen to get back in touch with you. For all you know, they could be axe-wielding homeopaths.
Now there is nothing intrinsically wrong with people getting back in touch with old school friends. It’s quite charming I suppose. It’s interesting to see ‘where they are now’, who is now married, who is now gay, who is a popular television personality and who is in rehabilitation. But what I don’t understand, and what keeps happening to me, is old school friends adding me as a friend on Facebook without so much as a “Hello, how are you?” message to accompany it. Apparently I’m the only person who finds that strange.
Why would you add an old school friend to your Facebook friends list if you have no intention of even finding out how they are and what they’re doing? Not so much as a hello. I can only presume these are face hunters, people who simply want more faces on their friends list, a kind of desperate ploy to increase their Facebook popularity status. And this is not paranoia on my part (well okay, maybe a little). I’ve tried sending these face hunters a message to say hello, and mostly I get a one sentence reply and nothing more than that. It’s as if to say, “I have no interest in knowing you again. I just want your name on my friends list because it makes my life seem more meaningful. I never liked you anyway. Now piss off.”

Zuckerberg, the man to blame for the Facebook phenomenon.
Well, dear reader, I fear these neurotic musings hold something of the truth. There are some people on Facebook with hundreds of friends, some with thousands. How can someone have that many friends? I know about twelve people. And of those twelve, about six are actual friends. Okay, that’s an understatement. I have seven friends. The other five are complete bastards. But in all seriousness, surely a ‘friend’ is someone that you would happily meet at your favourite member’s club for a stiff cognac and a good natter about life, the universe and everything (amend according to preferable social venue and topic of conversation). Not someone that you barely know to say hello to in the street. Those are called acquaintances, or strangers.
There’s a thought. Facebook should create a new set of face lists. You would have a Friends list for real friends, an Acquaintances list for people you know but wouldn’t invite round for dinner or trust with your car keys, and Strangers for people you don’t know, but whose faces you want because it makes you look more popular. Remember, you read it here first. Like that bothersome young woman from the irritating Windows 7 advert; “I’m a PC, and Facebook stole my idea”. Anyone got Carter-Ruck’s number?
Join The Arbuturian Facebook group. Friends and readers only, no strangers or axe-wielding homeopaths.


