'YOUR FACEBOOK account has been deactivated." That's how easy it was. A few clicks and I'm free. But let's take a step back - to the day last year when I signed up, just out of curiosity and because I was tired of always answering "No" to the question: "Are you on Facebook?" It took about 10 minutes for my deepest suspicions about the site to be confirmed: that it's an entirely pointless social-networking pyramid scheme, writes Michael Kelly
They have a phrase in the US for the defining moment when a TV show reaches its peak and is spiralling towards obsolescence - "jumping the shark". Facebook has jumped the shark.
Shortly after signing up, I got an email from "The Facebook Team" saying that such-and-such a "friend" had written something on my wall. Click here to log in. So I did. Entered username and password. Read the message. And immediately I was struck by a thought - wouldn't it have been easier for such-and-such to send me an email? And from that moment my relationship with Facebook was compromised. Each time I logged in I couldn't help but wonder: What's the point?
I have had similar experiences with other social networking sites. I have a MySpace profile which has been dormant since the day I set it up. Ditto, a profile on Broadjam. Back when I was still working in corporate-land people were always asking me "are you on LinkedIn?" When I said no they would shake their heads in sorry disbelief at the notion that I would deliberately deprive myself of such bountiful business opportunities. (Has anyone, anywhere ever made a single profitable business relationship on LinkedIn? Answers on a postcard, please.)
Of course, you get out of these sites what you put in to them. Or, more correctly, what you give away. The more information that you put up there, the more stimulating your site will be. I wasn't comfortable giving away any information and I was too lazy to upload photos, so basically my site was a catastrophic failure.
I have "friends" on Facebook who put up an alarming amount of content all with the noble aim of making their sites more interesting - their email address, phone number, date of birth, favourite books, TV programmes, films. Sometimes I get sucked in to looking at their photo albums, feeling distinctly uneasy and voyeuristic. Clearly they want you to look, since they uploaded them, but still. . .
So what is the point? Counting friends. The success of Facebook is measured by the number of people who join and everything about it is designed to hook more people in. And that's its primary problem - once you've joined up, that's pretty much all there is to it. Once you tire of adding friends, you tire of Facebook.
But until that time, Facebook exploits you mercilessly by playing on your innate need to be popular. Browsing the profiles of your "friends", you notice they have several hundred "friends", while you only have 23; and it makes you feel 10 years old again.
It's ridiculous, of course. These people don't actually have several hundred "friends" at all. It's not real. It's an illusion. But that doesn't matter. They appear popular and sociable. And by contrast, you feel like a leper. This vulnerability forces you to make questionable decisions about "friendships". You accept friend requests from people you don't even like. You send friend requests to people you would cross the road to avoid in real life.
When you log in to Facebook you are greeted with a news-feed that updates you on what your "friends" have been up to in your (prolonged) absence. It's not useful news, like how they are getting on at work or how the divorce proceedings are proceeding. It's Facebook news. So it's immensely childish and utterly useless. Tom is now friends with Barbara. Barbara is now friends with Sheila. Sheila has left the "Amazing Sexy Bitches" group. The news-feed creates an illusion of activity and makes it seem like your "friends" are having lots of good, clean fun without you - running quizzes, giving each other gifts, comparing likes and dislikes. A "friend" sent me a beer on Facebook - not an actual beer, just a picture of a beer. Can't they bring me for a real beer, in a real bar?
I'm still hazy about "poking". I know it's crept into the public consciousness and RTÉ even had it as part of the dialogue in a recent drama series. But I'm embarrassed to confess that I don't understand what it is. The only person I ever poked on Facebook was my sister-in-law and she poked me back and then I wondered if it was appropriate to poke one's sister-in-law? Is "poking" some sort of flirty pseudo-sexual thing?
Someone "rated" me once using something called the "You're a Hottie" application — I've no idea what it meant and whether I should be flattered or offended. Another "friend" requested that I join a group committed to getting Chas and Dave to open the Olympics. Someone else suggested that I download a "family tree" application, but of course the same ruse applies - they want you to get all your family members to sign up to Facebook too.
I couldn't help wondering: who does it help if I convince my family to sign up? Does it help Facebook attract advertising revenue? Yes. Does it provide any value whatsoever to me or my family? No.
This morning when I logged in, it kindly suggested a list of people that "I might know". I didn't know any of them and I have no idea why Facebook thought I would know them, but it gave me the option to add them as friends anyway, so I did. And then I thought again (one last time, with feeling): this is utterly pointless. So I clicked on "Deactivate Account". Please let us know why you are deactivating, it said sulkily. From a list of options I chose: "I don't find Facebook useful", which was as close to "I don't see the point" as I could find.
So that's me, folks - friendless, faceless, free. Farewell, Facebook Friends.