I have lost three old friends over the last couple of years.
Not in a physical sense. They are still very much alive. I lost them on account
of social media.
There are those that say something gets lost in translation
with the disparity between the typed word and personal conversation. While that
may be true, this was not the case when it came to these three individuals. The
social media interactions that led to the friendship collapses revealed one
surprising revelation only. The other two were in retrospect, tentative friendships
at best, marked by thinly-veiled resentments evident from day one. On to the
cases in point:
Ex-friend number one was a band mate from nearly forty years
ago. We parted ways when I left a band destined to play bars and frat parties
forever, and the band leaders were not in the least interested in recording, or
taking things to the next level. Despite an association with an agency that
built the careers of Christopher Cross and Stevie Ray Vaughn (playing the same
circuit that gave rise to their popularity), the polarizing difference was a
song list full of copy music; 1980’s drivel.
Prior to that group was one I led, and I had us on a mission
to stardom. We invested every spare dollar in recording, and the resulting EP
was to be our stepping stone to a recording contract. The problem was, only two
of the four other members were actually on board with my plan. One was fearful
he would be cut in the contract process, and the other never felt comfortable
with our original material, perhaps sharing that same fear of dismissal that
the next level might bring. They also believed they were much smarter than I;
second-guessing every move I made and finding glory in mistakes that would invariably
be made by a 22 year-old band leader.
These two factors made me dismissive towards them. My focus
was on the two songwriters in the group. Although they had distinctively
different styles and influences, there was a fusion-like quality that was also distinctive;
like nothing else out there.
You would think the naysayers would be one of the people I
had to unceremoniously drop from my circle of online friends, right? Not so. It
was one of the songwriters.
He inquired about the master tapes that never made their way
to vinyl, and I still had them. I shipped them off to LA (where he now resides),
and he mastered them in the hopes of making some money off the finished project.
And although we still had a couple of hundred admirers who associated that
group with the best years of their lives, their interest in the music was
limited to paying for postage at best. Just hearing the songs again on our “like”
page was enough for most, if not all of them.
Fast-forward to the tipping point: A last-minute excursion
to the city where we first met quickly escalated to a live performance reunion.
Everyone was all in except for this disappointed individual. A free plane
ticket was offered, as well as a place to stay. Food was not a factor either.
He was adamant in his refusal to attend, so we carried on in his absence,
performing a couple of songs from the never-released EP, plus quite a few new
ones from the songwriter who was still active in the music industry.
An obligatory band picture was (of course), taken and I
assembled a “then and now” photo, Photoshopping the missing member into the “now”
shot with the only available 38 year-old photo (his social media profile does
not have a photo less than 35 years old).
That’s when the trouble started. He sent me an email, saying
he had a screenwriter interested in my novels. This was exciting news indeed,
but it was quickly followed by a request to take the collage picture down. It
was not long after that when the reunion-attending band member sent me an email
excerpt from a candid, private conversation between the now-angry non-attendee
and myself concerning the direction he was taking with his continuing musical
career. My remarks would have been hurtful, but we had already discussed this
very subject personally while we were there. It was old news, and a subject
that was explained to me in the context of his current location. “Red Dirt”
music is all the rage in Texas these days, and my friend was simply following
the money trail. This genre was unbeknownst to me, and I experienced it for
myself the following year when I was privileged to perform with this gentleman
in Texas the following year.
The screenplay offer was, of course, fake, and concocted in
an effort to humiliate me (as was the copy and pasted private email
conversation). To this day, I don’t know what set this guy off. Perhaps he has
not aged well (which would explain no current pictures). His ex let me know he
was nearly homeless, despite posts about upcoming recording projects and
endless pictures of a large hill he owned a part of.
But the root in full retrospect seems to be a perception
that I ruined his career before his 25th birthday. Although that
sounds ludicrous, it is the only reasonable conclusion I could reach. Perhaps he
would have been plucked from small-town obscurity had we never met. Most likely
not, and he was also still a very young man when we parted ways so many years’
ago. It’s hard to blame yourself when your dreams don’t come true for some. I
have never had that problem.
Anyway, the onslaught of venom ended our friendship forever.
Delete delete delete. Gone. Good luck with that attitude buddy.
Ex-friend number two was a friendship of much shorter
duration. My first “real job” was with a manufacturing company with a very rich
and very eccentric founder and president. He took an immediate liking to me,
and I quickly became part of his inner circle, which consisted of a female
office manager, an accountant, and me. His loyalty to them shielded them from
any disciplinary action over caustic remarks, and they were frequently aimed at
me. Still, I regarded them as friends, despite hurtful remarks about my looks
and rude body English, like turning their backs to me during a conversation to
let me know in no uncertain terms I was always to be considered an outsider; a
mere lackey in the presence of royalty. The affinity between my boss and I grew,
and with it their resentment.
When this founder of the company was ousted in a hostile
takeover, the accountant was immediately fired and the office manager soon
after that. I was laid off (as were several others when the news of his ouster
spread and the business began to tank), but returned to perform the jobs of
three people who were not brought back less than a year later.
Nearing retirement, the office manager was beyond distraught.
Her former boss did find her a job elsewhere, but she reportedly performed
poorly, and finally quit over her religious beliefs (as good an excuse for anyone
who is no longer interested in working).
I was a pillar of moral support through her tough times; her
constant worry over an early retirement soothed by encouraging messages and
phone calls. She and her husband both survived early termination, however, and
the days of contentment resumed.
That’s when the trouble started. I have a stunningly
beautiful daughter, and any photo post of her on social media invariably led to
a comment of disbelief that someone with my looks could possibly have sired
such a beautiful creature. I made light of it the first time. The second time,
my wife became enraged by the comment and I called her out over it. She
apologized, saying I misconstrued her meaning. Her insults from the past told
me otherwise, but I considered the matter closed when I directly addressed it.
Not long after that, she did it again! Although comments
like these were met with glee with her audience of one back in the office days,
backhanded compliments aimed to once again point out I was ugly for an audience
of over 700 pushed me to the limit. Three strikes, you’re out lady.
Ex-friend number three was by far the longest friendship,
but the circumstances were quite similar to ex-friend #2. This woman has done
wonderful things for many in her life, but she is also well known for
bad-mouthing people behind their backs. Anyone that thinks they are exempt from
this unsavory trait is being naïve, but her friends try to keep this out of
their minds when she skewers mutual friends in private conversation.
She also lost her job unexpectedly, and again I took the
role of team lead in her support group. Encouraging texts and phone calls
emphasized not giving up hope. Things will look up. Keep moving forward. She
seemed very appreciative.
That is, until she found another job. When she announced
this on social media, I exclaimed “You are back!” in a comment. “I am back?”
was her reply. WTH? Was this statement hard to understand? It seemed like an
effort to make me look stupid. I took it in stride, but I was nonetheless
confused.
Then the attacks started. My every post was met with a
snarky comment by this friend. Anatomy was frequently the context of her
remarks. They became so prevalent; I began to dread a notification from her on
my posts.
Despite my humorous responses to these comments, the attacks
continued, finally culminating in a very personal degrading reference to my anatomy
(a subject to which she would have absolutely no personal knowledge). Rather
than go on the attack in front of hundreds of people, I confronted her
privately, asking if she would really like to get into anatomy with me on a
public forum. She is a large woman, and in similar fashion to her comment, I
implied it with enough words to make it clear anyone could interpret this easily,
as they would her comments directed at me.
Shocked and hurt beyond words, she played it out in true
passive-aggressive style, making herself the victim with cryptic memes about
someone she always defended turning out to be just as others perceived them; a
cold-hearted prick, disliked by just about everyone in our circle. This was not
only pure nonsense, it also a continuation of the insults without the benefit
of being able to post it directly in the form of a comment on my social media
profile. I offered the olive branch, which was ignored. I blocked her posts so
I wouldn’t have to read them anymore. Finally, after seeing each other at local
events and watching her look through me and interrupt my conversations with
mutual friends with various tactics, I decided that this one too, would have to
go.
Everyone who knows this woman has been on her shit list from
time to time. We often laugh about it. But we all somehow fall back into her
good graces…typically when she needs something from us. I’m getting too old to
play that waiting game. So long!
The purpose of this diatribe is more than catharsis for me.
It merely points out that although I may have a lot of friends on social media with
whom I will never develop a rapport, I have others who became close friends without
personal introduction, and I have gone on to meet them personally, and will hopefully
meet others sometime in the future.
My point is; yes, a lot of my social media friends are not “real
friends”
But I have also found that some of my real friends were not
really friends at all.
And it took social media for me to finally figure that out.
