Exactly 300 Words on Why I Won't Join Facebook

I loathe the competitiveness inherent in listing how many “friends” you have; I dislike the idea of asking someone to friend you as well as accepting or rejecting someone’s request. That feels like high school. I've done high school.

Last year, I was contacted by someone I’ve been mostly out of touch with since we were 20 except for occasional contact, when we catch up and then find we have zero to say. This time, she ended with: “If you don't have Facebook, get it! That is an order, even if you think it is stupid. I've reconnected with people 30 years after high school! I am so excited to have you back in my life!” I replied, filling her in on my life and echoing the love, but explained I wouldn’t be joining (avoiding the details here). I never heard back.

I don’t like devaluing the word “friend” to encompass everything from true intimate to acquaintance to professional contact to person you once knew half a lifetime ago but may have nothing in common with anymore.

Mixing worlds makes me uncomfortable. Though I realize you have some control over what’s public, I wouldn’t want coworkers to see how I interact with my friends, nor would I want to edit my interactions with the latter.

Googling someone is great—I do it too. But I don’t want to be found any more easily than I already can be (i.e., easily, and I don’t mean through this blog, which is virtually anonymous). One of my favorite things is coming home, drawing the curtains, turning on the lights, and feeling no one can find me. (I’m talking feeling, not reality.)

And this profile of Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg in the New Yorker only made me more confident in my decision.