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Friendster
5/12/05
by the 27

Come a little bit closer, for the 27 would like to share with you a secret. It's a juicy one -- a Prince Adam /Orko/Man-at-Arms/Sorceress kind of secret.

In many ways, I feel like this is the moment I get "outed." I have never felt so liberated. Here goes....

I'm on Friendster.

No, no (hitting my head), that is not being entirely forthcoming.

I LOVE Friendster. I check it everyday. I just checked it. And even if I wanted (I don't), I cannot make myself stop. I have 128 friendsters on Friendster and my life's purpose, once focused on finding a way to fit all the homeless people in the country into self-sufficient homeless cities built on all that vacant land on the sides of highways (you know that is a good idea) or to successfully complete all of the Orbitz pop-up games, has been reduced to the task of amassing more friendsters.

If you are on Friendster, it's even odds that I've seen your picture. Anything more, and nobody should take that bet. You'd be throwing your money away.

I can hear your gasps through my laptop's speakers and can see you gathering your buddies around the screen to point and snicker at my, all of a sudden, much less imposing picture. When told of his son's fascination with a website that really has no purpose, my father with disappointment replied, "In India, we had friends, not friendsters."

But all that does not matter. Like the last pull from the crack pipe or bottle of cheap gin, I click away on the left button of my mouse searching...searching....searching...

Will you be my friendster?

Take your ridicule elsewhere. He who hath not sinned, let him cast the first stone . . . (or something like that) . . . Turn around and keep walking Charlie.

What you are exhibiting is simply human nature. Jealousy. Classic jealousy, in fact. If your jealousy was hanging in my closet, it'd be a tight, green, vintage tee.

You hate me because you see in me what you sorely lack - forward thinking; an innovative spirit; the uncanny ability to identify cool and exciting trends. I bet you resisted the microwave oven too. And cameras. And sneakers. Your great-grandfather probably hoisted his saddle high in the air and asked people what all the fuss was about for those noisy "horseless carriages."My great-grandfather had a Model-T.

I have crafted my Friendster profile with the touch of a skilled artisan: it's witty, yet understated; superficial, yet insightful enough to provide a fleeting glimpse of the deep ocean within that is my soul ("He has listed "Meet Joe Black" as one of his favorite movies. Hmmmmm, he is sensitive, oh yes, extremely sensitive."). Interested sailors seeking to navigate those waters may send me a Friendster message at any time.

Look at you, so smug, so controlled, resisting the overwhelming temptation to post your picture and bio-data online for the world to see. Christian doctrine teaches us that if Adam and Eve had your self discipline, they'd still be running around a garden with no clothes on. They wouldn't have "begotten" anyone. Thus, you would not have been born. Being such a model of restraint doesn't seem so appealing now does it?

I don't know why I like Friendster, but I do. Then again, I don't know why the babbling brook babbles or the young mockingbord hums, yet I do not question that. Some things are not meant to be understood. A Friendster story: An old friend from college saw a girl on Friendster. He sent her a friendster message. It read, "Hi. You don't know me, but I was just browsing through this site for no reason and came across your profile. I think we have a lot in common. Anyway, if you see anything you like on my profile, write back. Take care. [Name omitted for obvious reasons]." Shockingly, she wrote back. They instant messaged for several months and my friend was truly in love. They finally met at a coffee shop. He called me after the meeting. "Her face is wider than in her Friendster pictures," he said.

He then sent a friendster message to someone else.

Don't judge me. I have a girlfriend and we are both on Friendster. I did not meet my girlfriend on Friendster, yet it has helped our relationship. We now communicate better. For example, when I say something "stupid" (i.e. "Even if we do break up, we'd always be friends, right?") she changes her relationship status from "In a relationship" to "Single." When I see this, I know that I have said something "stupid." I then "apologize" and she changes her relationship status back to "In a relationship."

I don't pretend to know many things. I don't know what words like "amortize" or "securitization" mean. I don't know why the baseball season is 162 games or how to transfer intra-office phone calls. I don't know how my dry cleaner can look me in the face and tell me its not really their fault that they lost my shirt.

But I do know this: Sandeep Patel lives in Austin, TX, he is 26 years old, his favorite television show is "The A-Team," and he enjoys "watching and playing tennis."

Friendster taught me this, and I am a better man for it.

Thank you, Friendster.