Nice to Meet You — or Not

Virtual visiting via cloud sourcing

Once upon a time, telephone, paper, and pen were the social media. Sustained in the interim by phone conversation, supplemented by occasional written correspondence, friendship was conducted person-to-person. In person.

Friendship back then required an investment of time, a commitment of attention. There was a limit to how many pieces you could make of your personal pie. Two or three generous slabs for your most favored, modest slices for several more, slivers for the rest. Subdivide any further, you’d be serving up crumbs.

With today’s array of social media, we have more friends than ever before. After all, it’s so much easier to get together — anytime! — in the virtual world. My friends become your friends and bring more friends.

Communication is effortless, instantaneous. Tweet, tweet. Your words out-fly the fastest bird. No need to speak — simply text. That’s what phones are for!

By “phone” I mean “cell,” silly. It’s redundant to say cell phone. As if anyone has a landline anymore. Don’t you know how rude it is to call someone’s cell? You would interrupt his texting or oblige him to listen to a rambling message.

Which he won’t do. Guaranteed. I’ve made the mistake of leaving voice mail in which concision got bested by the painstaking detail needed to avoid a to-and-fro-times-two fest. Invariably, I get a curt call back: Yeah, I see you called — what’s up?

All my friends are on FaceBook. I’m not, but they are. All four of them. All four of whom have — much to their credit and inconvenience — managed to meet me on my terms. As in meet me, literally, at my house, say, for lunch.

With pie, perhaps, for dessert. The rest of the time, my four friends meet their considerably overlapping circles of four hundred Facebook friends (FBFs). Up in the Cloud. Where the pie-in-the-sky is in good supply. Never at risk of running dry.

Though the pie itself is, to my taste, dry. Indeed, virtual-ly tasteless, as online pies tend to be. But, hey, don’t listen to me. Everyone on FaceBook LIKEs all their 400 friends’ pies. At least they say they LIKE them. They’d better, if they don’t want to be left friendless.

One of my friends, Ellen, unfriended one of her FBFs because he didn’t LIKE her daily serving of pie. Not that he UNLIKED it. Joe merely didn’t partake of her pie one day … another day … an entire week!

Ellen was hurt. She’d been tracking Joe’s pie consumption and found he was praising others’ pies to the skies during all that time he took nary a nibble of hers.

So, now Ellen’s erstwhile FBF is down a friend — though it likely escaped his notice, considering Joe’s probably since acquired 40-something others in her place.

So, Ellen didn’t even get the satisfaction of seeing Joe stung by her snub. Moreover, having been the initiator of the unfriending, Ellen’s well aware of the dip in her own friend count.

On the upside, I am pleased to see that my son-the-socialist, 36-and-still-single — by neither his choice nor mine — is a hit with his female FBFs. Indeed, as a frequently published writer — including a book and another pending — Doug has acquired a small fan club of socialist sympathizers.

Last week, one of Doug’s admirers sent him a postcard. A literal card, with an actual stamp, delivered by a real mailman. The salutation was Dearest Doug, and the signoff was Love — with a heart-topper. The lady gushed: Absolutely loved your book, looking forward to the second … So delighted we met, hope to get to know you better soon …

Well! The virtual has turned real. This lady may have begun as an FBF, but they’ve actually met. She clearly adores him. I hope she lives nearby so they can get together often. We could invite her to dinner for starters, make her feel welcome. Not that I’m trying to rush things, no, not at all, but …

… for Chrissake Doug, I’ll take a pass on the grandkids, but please, please get married and move out already, my God, your hair’s nearly as grey as mine would be if I didn’t dip it in maraschino syrup.

I approached my son, trying to make my inquiry appear casual. So, Doug, where’s your friend from? … OHIO?(Damn!) … When were you in Ohio? …You weren’t? Then where did you meet? … On FaceBook? … Yes, but I mean where when you met in person? …You never met in person? … Any chance she might make a trip to see you? … Oh, I see, that’s too bad. (Double Damn!)

I haven’t lost all hope. Seems the lady can’t manage the trip on her own, but her grandson lives near the nursing home.

In May, he’s going to escort her east to visit her other grandson. Who — can you believe! — lives with his wife and three kids right here in town!