{"id":686,"date":"2003-07-17T11:10:26","date_gmt":"2003-07-17T11:10:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ubuntu.my\/wp30\/archives\/2003\/07\/17\/friendster_or_foe.html"},"modified":"2003-07-17T11:10:26","modified_gmt":"2003-07-17T11:10:26","slug":"friendster_or_foe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/archives\/2003\/07\/17\/friendster_or_foe.html","title":{"rendered":"friendster or foe?"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Time Out New York: &#8220;Online social network Friendster.com just may be the most annoyingly cliquey and trendy club since Moomba&#8221;  (with quotes by moi)<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><br \/>\nFRIENDSTER OR FOE?<br \/>\nOnline social network Friendster.com just may be the most annoyingly cliquey and trendy club since Moomba<\/p>\n<p>By Jennifer Romolini<br \/>\nIllustration by Greg White<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve never eaten a hamburger?&#8221; Jonathan Abrams asks, incredulous. Abrams, a former Netscape engineer, is the founder of Friendster.com (www.friendster.com), the online social network where people meet\/date\/stalk each others&#8217; friends, and he&#8217;s surfing through my Friendster profile while talking to me. Usually, when I interview someone over the phone, I have a certain anonymity, but Abrams can see that I&#8217;m 30, live in Brooklyn and listen to Johnny Cash. He also knows that I&#8217;m in a relationship, so on Friendster, I&#8217;m &#8220;Just Here to Help,&#8221; as opposed to looking for an activities partner, a date or a serious relationship. &#8220;What&#8217;s up with your picture?&#8221; he says, balking at my somewhat obscured (though I thought cute) likeness. &#8220;Is this a joke profile?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s not a joke. It&#8217;s the real me, or rather, the smartest, wittiest, most appealing cyber-me I could create on the service, filling out fields like About Me and Who I&#8217;m Looking For. Abrams&#8217;s once-over is part of the fun-or terror, depending on your viewpoint-of joining the Friendster party. It&#8217;s the point of it, really. The site, which went up last August, was intended to be a more intimate and discriminating alternative to online dating services such as Match.com and Nerve.com; hookups would be monitored by friends, much as in real life. Friendster has since blown up far beyond its founder&#8217;s imaginings.  It&#8217;s become a wildly popular social yardstick that&#8217;s as contagious and fast-moving as SARS. Still in an unfinished, beta form, the site now has 750,000 members in more than 200 countries and is growing at a rate of more than 20 percent a week. It has inspired several parodies-Scenester and Enemyster; Hatester is on the way-and has even spawned its own clothing line (Friendster thong, $12.50).<\/p>\n<p>In Manhattan, where the need to feel connected is almost pathological, Friendster currently claims a 50,000-person network. It&#8217;s the new watercooler. It&#8217;s taking hold of social lives like kudzu. Go to a dinner party and it&#8217;s likely that friends will be talking about Friendster. The site has even become a social activity unto itself. I recently asked an acquaintance, an always-overbooked 32-year-old magazine editor, what she was up to over the weekend. &#8220;Surfing Friendster,&#8221; she said, with no detectable trace of irony. (Hey, at least hanging out with your Friendsters is free-for now, anyway. When the site officially launches in a few months, membership will likely remain gratis, but there may be a charge for certain services like searching for dates).<\/p>\n<p>If you aren&#8217;t on Friendster, it&#8217;s because you haven&#8217;t been invited to join. Yep, it&#8217;s the cyber equivalent of being allowed behind the velvet rope (see &#8220;Friendster at a glance&#8221;). If you haven&#8217;t been invited to join, chances are you&#8217;re a social pariah-at least if you consider Friendster the arbiter of popularity. But you probably won&#8217;t be out of the loop for much longer. Even defiant anti-Friendsters succumb to the peer pressure. I did, after receiving more than four invitations from different pals. I now have 17 Friendsters, through whom I am connected to yet another 91,440 people. Friendster is indeed a useful networking tool. Beyond making friends, people have used it to score dates, jobs and even apartments. And it&#8217;s excellent for satisfying voyeuristic and narcissistic desires. But it can also be an addictive and perilous trap.<\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s too much like high school<br \/>\nFriendster can be as cliquey as a gaggle of seventh-grade girls. In the race to amass the most connections and achieve virtual popularity, the line between &#8220;friend&#8221; and &#8220;Friendster&#8221; begins to blur. &#8220;I really wasn&#8217;t that interested at first, but pretty quickly, I started getting competitive about it in a very high-school sort of way,&#8221; admits Robert, a 26-year-old software engineer, adding, &#8220;I just wanted to get more Friendsters than other people I knew.&#8221; Oftentimes, people who are not your friends in real life ask to become them on the site, and refusing them can be sticky. &#8220;I had this one peripheral acquaintance who kept e-mailing me, asking me to be her friend,&#8221; says Corky, a 29-year-old Web designer. &#8220;I replied with a joke but didn&#8217;t approve her request. She kept it up until I was guilted into saying yes.&#8221; Such uncomfortable situations occasionally lead to regressive measures. &#8220;My friend was really insulted that no one had invited her,&#8221; Lisa, a 32-year-old book editor, says. &#8220;So I told her my invitation couldn&#8217;t get through her antispam system.&#8221; Ouch.<\/p>\n<p>It sends egos into overdrive<br \/>\nThe more Friendsters one has, the more compulsive one seems to get. As your network expands, the mandate for a witty, quirky, aesthetically pleasing profile escalates. Think of it as &#8220;Am I Smart-or Funny or Interesting-or Not,&#8221; with people scrambling to have the right books, movies and bands in their profile. Cool Friendsters have lots of hip, hot buddies with good photos, well-written profiles and a slew of testimonials (the warm-and-fuzzy blurbs friends write to attest to one another&#8217;s greatness). Insecure Friendsters obsessively edit their profiles in an attempt to emulate those in the in crowd. (I&#8217;ve seen one painfully self-conscious user edit her About Me section four times in one day.) They also make wink-nudge references to other Friendsters in their profiles-and even plagiarize. &#8220;Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I really felt like this guy was copying me,&#8221; Clayton, a 31-year-old, L.A.-based interior and furniture designer, says. &#8220;I knew him from another site, Am I Hot or Not, and he asked to be my friend. At first, his profile had very little on it. But the next time I was Friendster surfing, I noticed that he had changed his profile and that it was really similar to mine: same movies, same interests. I didn&#8217;t say anything. But it was really weird.&#8221; As if there weren&#8217;t enough head cases in the real world.<\/p>\n<p>It complicates, rather than abets dating<br \/>\nIt used to be, if we wanted to do reconnaissance work on potential mates, we&#8217;d Google them. Friendster is a more reliable source of information, because rather than scrutinizing a person&#8217;s college thesis, you have firsthand reports from mutual pals to aid you. But Abrams&#8217;s vision of a cozy online personals scene, where you meet on the word of your chums, doesn&#8217;t really work. For one thing, the site is too much like real-life dating. Friendster is incestuous. There&#8217;s not enough privacy in its peer groups. And there&#8217;s the fear that if you contact too many people who know each other, there&#8217;ll be hurt feelings and awkward moments (remember the swapping-party scene in The Ice Storm?). &#8220;The personals are an odds game,&#8221; says Jordan, a 32-year-old magazine researcher. &#8220;The more people you contact, the better your success rate. But you can&#8217;t do that on Friendster. You can&#8217;t go through your friends&#8217; friends until you meet someone you like. What if you all wind up at the same barbecue together? Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Like any dating service, Friendster has the rare success story, and some folks do get a happy ending-of sorts. &#8220;I got laid through Friendster last night!&#8221; announced a 26-year-old female user, who says that after meeting randomly through the site&#8217;s Gallery (where you can search users out of your network by name or e-mail address), she and her mate have now become regular fuck buddies-or is it fuck Friendsters? He&#8217;s even added her to his page. &#8220;I can totally hypothesize about the other people he&#8217;s dating on Friendster based on new testimonials and new friends added. It&#8217;s like stalking. It&#8217;s fun,&#8221; she says. In fact, though others can&#8217;t access your personal e-mail address (even if you correspond through the message board), there&#8217;s nothing to protect you from stalkers. Barring a mass bulletin like &#8220;This guy&#8217;s a scumbag,&#8221; there&#8217;s no system to ward off obnoxious would-be suitors.<\/p>\n<p>Of course, getting laid by a perfect stranger through a personals site isn&#8217;t really anything new-the kids on Nerve have been doing it for years. However, it reveals Friendster&#8217;s biggest design flaw: Once you&#8217;re at four degrees of separation, you&#8217;re basically anonymous. &#8220;At four degrees, it becomes no different from any other online dating service,&#8221; Danah Boyd, a researcher at Berkeley who studies online social networks, confirms. In other words, your Friendsters become useless.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Time Out New York: &#8220;Online social network Friendster.com just may be the most annoyingly cliquey and trendy club since Moomba&#8221; (with quotes by moi)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_s2mail":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-686","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-friendster"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/686","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=686"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/686\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=686"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=686"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=686"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}