I Have 12 Friends
The last time I checked, I had 354 friends on Facebook. 354. That’s a lot of friends. Of course, by Facebook standards, it’s nothing. I know people with over 3,000 friends. And here I am, little ole me, with my paltry 354.
I must be doing something wrong to only have a mere 354. Am I not a good friend? Do I not care about people? Am I selfish? Self centered? Just plain mean? I always thought I was a good person; a good listener, always trying to lend a hand, willing to sacrifice for others. How is it that I can be like that and only have 354 friends? Truth be told, it’s a lot worse than that.
Out of those 354 people, exactly 87 are relatives. Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, etc. Not really friends, are they? They could be friends, and some of them I consider friends, but they’re relatives. If I’m friends with them, it’s only by an accident of birth. Don’t get me wrong, that’s not a bad thing, but it is a fact. If I weren’t born into the family I was, or they weren’t born into the family they were, we wouldn’t even know each other let alone be friends.
Another 143 of my Facebook friends are people from my past that I’ve connected with simply because Facebook exists. People I went to high school with, old camp friends, some from the neighborhood where I grew up and a few I went to college with. Childhood friends are a big one here. They may have been my friends at one point or another, and some still are, but for the most part they are memories that make me smile and wonder where all the years have gone.
Then there are the 65 people with whom I’ve worked with at one time or another over the last 35 years. I’ve had lots of jobs in lots of places and I’ve met lots of people. These people, for the most part, really aren’t, and never were, friends. They were co-workers. We shared an office, a mutual hate of the boss (except when I was the boss, of course), and maybe a cup of coffee or two. Not really friends though.
There are 47 people, listed on my Facebook profile as friends, that I have never actually met. They are friends of friends, strangers really, who for some reason have felt it necessary to click “Add As Friend” and, for some inexplicable reason, I clicked confirm. Maybe they “Liked” one of my comments. Maybe I “Liked” one of theirs. Whatever the reason, we are now friends.
This leaves 12 people. These are my friends. These are the people who, no matter what the circumstances, I know I can call on. And they know they can call on me. They come from every category I listed above. A few are relatives. A couple more are from my past. Four or five are people I have known all my life. And the rest are those who are either ones I have recently reconnected with or friends of friends .
It’s that last category that intrigues me the most. Reconnected and friends of friends. You know who you are. I don’t have to name you. For whatever reason, we have achieved a personal connection that defies explanation. Our thoughts line up and our status’ make sense to each other. We see things in a similar fashion and if we don’t, we respect each other’s right to our own opinion. We make each other laugh, and maybe even cry. And these are the friends that, to me, mean the most.
For even though we haven’t seen each other for years, or for that matter never really met, you are the ones I feel closest to. Facebook is funny that way, isn’t it? If we haven’t both commented on some mutual friend’s status, or haven’t “Liked” a mention by one or the other, we wouldn’t be friends.
And if we weren’t friends, we wouldn’t have each other, would we?
(I would love to be able to tell you who you are. For some idiotic reason I feel like I have to tell you. But I’m not going to. Unless you ask. You may get an Inbox message from that simply says “yes”. And then you will know. Not that that is anything to write home about, mind you, but for some reason, I feel the need to tell you what you mean to me).
I must be doing something wrong to only have a mere 354. Am I not a good friend? Do I not care about people? Am I selfish? Self centered? Just plain mean? I always thought I was a good person; a good listener, always trying to lend a hand, willing to sacrifice for others. How is it that I can be like that and only have 354 friends? Truth be told, it’s a lot worse than that.
Out of those 354 people, exactly 87 are relatives. Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, etc. Not really friends, are they? They could be friends, and some of them I consider friends, but they’re relatives. If I’m friends with them, it’s only by an accident of birth. Don’t get me wrong, that’s not a bad thing, but it is a fact. If I weren’t born into the family I was, or they weren’t born into the family they were, we wouldn’t even know each other let alone be friends.
Another 143 of my Facebook friends are people from my past that I’ve connected with simply because Facebook exists. People I went to high school with, old camp friends, some from the neighborhood where I grew up and a few I went to college with. Childhood friends are a big one here. They may have been my friends at one point or another, and some still are, but for the most part they are memories that make me smile and wonder where all the years have gone.
Then there are the 65 people with whom I’ve worked with at one time or another over the last 35 years. I’ve had lots of jobs in lots of places and I’ve met lots of people. These people, for the most part, really aren’t, and never were, friends. They were co-workers. We shared an office, a mutual hate of the boss (except when I was the boss, of course), and maybe a cup of coffee or two. Not really friends though.
There are 47 people, listed on my Facebook profile as friends, that I have never actually met. They are friends of friends, strangers really, who for some reason have felt it necessary to click “Add As Friend” and, for some inexplicable reason, I clicked confirm. Maybe they “Liked” one of my comments. Maybe I “Liked” one of theirs. Whatever the reason, we are now friends.
This leaves 12 people. These are my friends. These are the people who, no matter what the circumstances, I know I can call on. And they know they can call on me. They come from every category I listed above. A few are relatives. A couple more are from my past. Four or five are people I have known all my life. And the rest are those who are either ones I have recently reconnected with or friends of friends .
It’s that last category that intrigues me the most. Reconnected and friends of friends. You know who you are. I don’t have to name you. For whatever reason, we have achieved a personal connection that defies explanation. Our thoughts line up and our status’ make sense to each other. We see things in a similar fashion and if we don’t, we respect each other’s right to our own opinion. We make each other laugh, and maybe even cry. And these are the friends that, to me, mean the most.
For even though we haven’t seen each other for years, or for that matter never really met, you are the ones I feel closest to. Facebook is funny that way, isn’t it? If we haven’t both commented on some mutual friend’s status, or haven’t “Liked” a mention by one or the other, we wouldn’t be friends.
And if we weren’t friends, we wouldn’t have each other, would we?
(I would love to be able to tell you who you are. For some idiotic reason I feel like I have to tell you. But I’m not going to. Unless you ask. You may get an Inbox message from that simply says “yes”. And then you will know. Not that that is anything to write home about, mind you, but for some reason, I feel the need to tell you what you mean to me).
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