To be rid of social media? Just sign out
Last weekend, I bumped into an acquaintance after five years, at a mutual friend’s place. It was exactly five years ago that I’d met him for the first time — at the same friend’s house — and had a long conversation about the sorry state of the world and various other things. Soon afterwards, I became Facebook friends with both him and his lovely wife. A couple of years later, I was chatting with his wife on a Facebook thread (on which TV series is the best one to watch — at that time), and she happened to inform me that her husband has gone off Facebook. Cold turkey.
So, when I met him last weekend, the first thing I told him as I rose from a garden-variety chair to give him a hug was: “You really need to get back on Facebook!” He laughed and said, “I really should.” Then, he settled down opposite me and said, “Actually, I really won’t. Deleting my Facebook account has been the best thing I’ve done in a long time… a very long time.”
Immediately, a discussion erupted. “I’m in touch with so many ‘friends’, who are scattered all over the world — I now have a platform to speak to them virtually,” one person offered. “Heck, we’re planning to have a college batch reunion in February, thanks to Facebook,” another piped up.
“But if you wanted to get together with old pals, you should be doing that in any case, right?” the man who’s no longer on Facebook asked. “There’s email, there’s the texting service — and, for God’s sake, there’s that thing called the phone: pick it up and dial some numbers! Those I want to be in touch with, I am in touch with, I make that effort. My friendships aren’t so shallow that I need a ‘platform’ to remember those I care about, so my not being on Facebook any more has made no difference in my relationship management.”
“I get so much information on my wall — it’s become like a news feed for me,” yet another voice butted in.
“So did I,” our ‘FB non-friend’ picked up on that thread. “I was always getting drawn into some debate or the other over political and social matters. I was wasting so much time hair-splitting on issues I don’t have a handle on. Worse, I was having fights with my friends on ‘sensitive’ subjects — and some of them got so bad, we were ‘unfriending’ each other… come on, is it worth such drama? I believe not.”
“Look at me,” I decided to add my two cents at this juncture. “I carefully avoid such landmines: I never get drawn into controversial subjects that abound… okay, at times, I’m tempted to,” I admitted with a sigh, “and I have, on occasion, and regretted the decision straightaway.”
“No, I don’t think you get the magnitude. People on social media feel their opinion matters, so they want to thrust it down others’ throats. Fact is, their opinions
don’t matter. If they believe they matter, they’re being delusional: why does the real world care about some third-party point of view being done to death on somebody’s wall? Members of your echo chamber may pretend to care — but believe me, they don’t; they’re just waiting to move on to the next thread. Yes, face it, your opinion doesn’t really matter. And you know what? Most people on Facebook — however neutral or tolerant they claim to be — don’t like it one bit when their opinion is trashed or countered or, worse still, ignored.”
One fine day, about three years ago, he said, he logged on to Facebook and espied some particularly inane serve-and-rally unfolding. “It’s now or never, I thought to myself, this is as good a time as any to delete my account.” He went to his settings and hit the ‘delete account’ button. “I had to answer a lot of questions from Facebook, it was nice of them to ask if I wanted to download my photos — to which I said, yes, of course. Twenty minutes later, the deed was done, I was out of the Facebook world, and I was so happy. I was a bit scared that I’ll return to the fold after having eaten crow — but, three years now, and here I am!”
At this point, I picked up my phone and hit the “uninstall” button on the Facebook icon.
Don’t worry, I told another friend who caught me in the act open-mouthed. “I’m still on Facebook,” I assured her. “I can log on to it from my computer/laptop when I want — I don’t think I want it on the go anymore.” “Because of this guy?” “Er, maybe, I like to ‘follow’ people.” My phone, meanwhile, is thanking me big time. Its battery life has shot up dramatically. And data usage significantly curtailed.
One fine day, about three years ago, he said, he logged on to Facebook and espied some particularly inane serve-and-rally unfolding. “It’s now or never, this is as good a time as any to delete my account.” He went to his settings and hit the ‘delete account’ button