all my favorite people are offline
from someone who is very online
The sentiments from this piece have been in my brain for a while now and the piece itself is just a sliver of my ever-evolving feelings on friendship, especially in this digital age we find ourselves in. I don’t consider myself a (very good) writer and often hold off on sharing more as I don’t yet know how to fully express myself on the many topics I think about. I decided to press publish on this piece regardless because sometimes I think it’s better to release the thing with its imperfections and in its incompleteness than not at all. Thank you to those who takes the time to read my silly little musings — appreciate you x
For a long time, I was convinced that you could use the internet to find your ideal friends. Ones who had the same interests as you. The same taste in music and clothes. The same values. So much so, that I wrote a whole piece about it.
It would make sense, right? Through the internet, you can source olive oil based on what country you’d prefer it to originate from. You can customize sneakers with different color ways and details. You can order a piece of furniture with the exact dimensions that fit your room. You can find a book that includes all the themes you want, in a time period you’re interested in. And it almost feels like you’d be able to do that with friendships, too. You can easily see what people are like based on what they post and share to their feeds. They like this musician, too? Check. They wear this brand, too? Check. They are vocal about this cause, too? Check. It seems logical that people who share these similarities would also be people you’d get along well with.
But often times it’s not that easy. I’d know! I’ve been working, living and breathing in the world of social media for over 10 years and have since made lots of friends through it, which initially gave me a more optimistic perspective on forming these kinds of friendships. Social media gave me access to likeminded people I wouldn’t have known otherwise. Finding friends who had the same interests as me felt so new and refreshing, especially at a time I had grown dissatisfied with relationships formed based on proximity — those from my hometown or those I went to college with, for example. Just because we had biology together or lived in the same dorm didn’t mean we had the same values or hobbies or passions. So when I began meeting people online who did, I thought: this is it. I found my people.
But what I didn’t realize at the time is how necessary consistent in person, face-to-face interaction is. Not only to create that special bond over time, but also to simply learn if there’s compatibility in the first place. Sure, I can assume someone would be a friendship match based on our shared interests or values… but it didn’t automatically mean we were going to gel as people. Kind of like that feeling of finding that seemingly perfect dress online that has everything I’m looking for, only to get it in the mail and realize that it fits all wrong. On paper, it’s all there but somehow it just doesn’t feel right.
I know it firsthand - that craving for connection through social media. I felt it deeply when I was at my lowest friendship-wise. It was 2020 and I realized that friends I had been close to for years saw and approached the world so differently than me. I didn’t know it at the time, but I see now how lonely I was. There were times I was in tears, saddened that the people I loved didn’t care about the things I cared about, some of which I learned through something they posted online or a disappointing response to something I shared. But as I distanced myself from some of these friends, I simultaneously found many others who shared similar values and beliefs as me. I began to spend more and more time online, interacting with them, thinking I found the people I was supposed to be friends with. But when lockdowns ended and we all began socializing in person again, I realized that a shared expression of similar views online doesn’t automatically equate to a real friendship.
To some degree, I do think social media is beneficial in the way that it has a unique ability to expedite or halt friendships. Through an Instagram post or a retweet, you can learn where someone stands on a topic and sometimes, that’s helpful. But it’s also not that simple. I look back on that time and think about how I actually formed real friendships. While I used to chalk it up to our shared values and beliefs, I realize now that the friendships that lasted were with the kind of people I was able to talk to on the phone or social distance in a park for hours on end… Something I could only learn by spending real, offline time with them, something I wouldn’t know from a glimpse of their online profile. To this day, many of those friends are still those I speak to for hours on end, talking about all the things we have in common, and just as much, the things we don’t.
Sharing similar values and beliefs are integral building blocks in friendships — for me, that’s a non negotiable. But real, long-lasting friendships need more than that. Sometimes that “more” is the history of being there for one another through the ups and downs. Sometimes it’s the ease in which you can do the mundane together, like curl up on the couch and talk about nothing and everything, without the buffers and distractions that a fancy new restaurant or loud bar offers. Sometimes it’s that comfort of knowing that they would pick up the phone if you were going through something difficult in your life — and they’re not just someone who would reply with a broken heart emoji if you were to share it online.
Social media can be a vehicle for friendship, but it has to go further. While I appreciate all the friendships I’ve made through a simple DM or follow, I know what’s important is taking time and effort to foster any relationship I care about offline. I’d rather be a friend who has the love and trust of those in my life, and not just someone who is “liked” by strangers or acquaintances online. I’d rather hear “I’m proud of you” from one person I deeply respect than receive countless platitudes via comments or messages from many. Likes, comments and messages don’t hug me when I’m sad. They don’t pick me up to go for a spontaneous trip to an ice cream shop. They’re not sitting around the table with me as I’m celebrating my birthday.
As I reflect on who it is I enjoy spending my time with most, I realize that all my favorite people are largely offline. They’re private, they don’t really post, and they certainly don’t care about what I’m doing on social media. They don’t like me for my outfit pics or my travel guides or my book recommendations or my political reposts. They like me for my sassy jokes, that I always make plans to get together and that I try to turn what I care about into something that others can be a part of — no matter how small. And I like them not for what they share (or don’t share) online, but for their hearts and generosity, the way I feel and who I am when I’m around them, the substance of our conversations, and that they’re there for the good, bad and ugly.
These “offline” friends, as you can imagine, are not chronically online. Our relationships have been able to go deeper because both parties are present — off our phones, engaging in eye contact, actually listening to one another. With them, I see how a cheeky comment elicits a full body laugh, rather than a half committed nod or an unenthusiastic that’s so funny while they’re refreshing their feeds. With them, I receive thoughtful, handwritten notes, not generic responses to an Instagram story because they see a cake and candle on their screens. With them, I get to recount a recent trip in person, not just show them via a photo dump.
I’ve had that friend who always had some social media app open at dinner, posting about dessert instead of eating it. I’ve had that friend who said beautiful things about me online but strangely, never to my face. I’ve had that friend who immediately pulled out their phone as soon as we sat down while in a new city instead of soaking it in as the rest of the group took turns pointing out the interesting things around us. I’ve had that friend who posted about kindness and acceptance but didn’t model those things in their life. Many of us have that friend and many of us have also been that friend. I write this all here as a reminder of how those tendencies can stunt connection within a friendship. And as a reminder of how much more beautiful it is to witness the reactions of those we love and learn what really lights them up (and I’m not talking about the glow from their screens).
As much space social media takes up in my world, I feel fortunate that I’ve begun to distinguish what matters outside of it. And know that followers — whether it’s tens, hundreds or thousands of them — don’t equate to friends. That those who may seem to be a match based on shared interests or values found on their profiles aren’t always a match in person. That people who aren’t dictated by the addicting pull of likes, follows and other forms of shallow, constant validation simply make better friends. That I would rather look around and see those I love right in front of me than through a screen. I cherish these largely offline friendships because they are mine. And they are real when so much of what we engage with online isn’t.