Are You For Real? - Opinion

I am not a friendly person. I admit it. Parties fill me with dread. Cities and airports always inspire a white-hot loathing for my fellow man. Any social gathering that includes another living soul who doesn’t also happen to be my dog inevitably gives me a case of the shakes.

I’m not proud of being a misanthrope. It doesn’t make me edgy, cool or hip. It’s just one of those things: Some of us are born with an extra toe, or a harelip or, in my case, an overriding need to hunker down by myself in a cave by the river. Not a van. A cave. There’s a difference.

Facebook, then, has always been a bit of a...challenge... for me. Facebook - and all social media, for that matter - is one big, messy, digital orgy of “Hey, let’s be friends! And give each other awkwardly long hugs! And talk about our grandmothers and kittens and feelings! And while we’re at it, let’s all use way too many exclamation points!!!”

Blech. Just thinking about it has my left eye twitching up a storm.

So, for the first few years of the social media revolution, I went into Deep Amish mode and spent most of my time alone, shaking a defiant fist at the Internet, weaving straw hats and inventing an appropriately-archaic alternative to the modern zipper. At some point, however, one of my bosses told me it was time to put down the pitchfork, join the living and create a Facebook account. Be social, dammit!


THAT BURNING SENSATION
So, yeah, I joined the rest of the world online and, I have to admit, it’s not all bad. That clip of the farmer playing AC/DC’s Thunderstruck on the anvil? That’s cool. Links to videos of cats wielding lightsabers? They almost make me like cats for a second or two. And, yes, I can now share pictures of my dog with other people who live in caves with their dogs.

Win-win.

Facebook lets you create friendships, without enduring bad breath, damp handshakes and the excessive use of the word. “Bro”. It took me longer than it probably took any of you to grasp the obvious benefits of social media, but I’ve gotten there. Still, I have to admit that since joining Pinkbike, I’ve been grappling with a problem: Figuring out who is real and who is simply some sort of Matrix-y, spam-delivering, robo virus.

Yeah, I know, this crap out shouldn’t be hard if you happen to be under the age of 93, but sometimes you get a Facebook invite and it looks legit:

Hey, I’ve got five mutual friends with this person. Okay. And this person who wants to be my friend also likes dogs. And caves! And they ride bikes? Seems safe enough. We have so much in common...

So, you click “Accept”…and by the time you wake up the next morning, your newsfeed is filled with the social-media equivalent of what nurses at the free clinic commonly describe as “a burning sensation when you pee”.

You’ve been tainted. According to your newsfeed, you now like Oakley sunglasses and you want the world to know that if they rush on over to www.wanker.com, they can score a set of counterfeit, purple and yellow Randy the Macho Man Savage-edition Flak Jackets for the low, low price of just $24.99! You also heartily endorse Candy Crush Saga. And some sex tape featuring Rihanna (ok maybe that last part is true).

It’s not a big deal, I know, but it is annoying. So, I’ve created my own simple—yet effective—rubric for sifting real friends, from fake ones.



IN FISH I TRUST
I recently received a friend request from a guy named Joe. I accepted immediately. Why? Because his profile image contained a shot of a guy holding a fish. Maybe I’m just naïve, but I trust anyone holding a monstrously ugly fish. There's a kind of unbridled honesty about a man with his arm up a catfish or guy french kissing a steelhead. You're not trying to fool anybody with a fish. Hence, fish equals legit.

What’s not legit? All of the guys who want to be your friend and whose Facebook profile suggests that they are also 22-years old, perky, buxom and that they “like to party”. Maybe your name really is Larry and you’re a 53-year old accountant at Merrill Lynch who you just happens to also look a lot like a female Russian porn star. I suppose it’s possible. But, I’m declining your friend request, and accepting the one from Fish Guy. Sorry.


AWKWARD EQUALS LEGIT
Initially, I was too accepting of anyone who looked like a fellow cyclist. So, if you’re profile picture shows a perfectly crisp, well-composed image of a rider ripping through a corner, I’m not buying it for a second. I clicked “Accept” on way too many of those things and got burned just as many times.

You know what I believe in now? Awkward pictures. Bear with me here. If you're a con man hell bent on cooking up an identity, you're not going to half-ass your Facebook profile photo--you're going to try and make yourself look good. Look appealing. By that logic, normal people have nothing to lose by simply being their lumpy, awkward selves. They just want to be friends--they're not trying to sell you on the latest herbal "male enhancement" supplements. Thus, if your Facebook profile page contains images of you doing the following, we can safely be friends:
(1) You either (a) wearing outdated riding gear from the `80s or (b) covering yourself in neon spandex;
(2) You humping around on your bike with the worst possible riding style; or
(3) You simply looking undeniably spastic in an unflattering fashion.


There you have it—that’s my approach to making new friends on Facebook.

I admit, my method lacks a certain degree of scientific rigor, but it's proving effective. So, to every awkward spastic out there either hugging or biting a large fish, I heartily extend you my friendship. Better yet, let’s get off the computer and just go for a ride. You know, the real kind—with bikes and dirt and crashing. Cheers.

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MENTIONS: @vernonfelton

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