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Some of my best friends are virtual. How about yours?
The case for online friendship
Maria Thompson Corley
The bizarre romance of the Notre Dame football star Manti Te'o and Lennay Kekua, his imaginary online girlfriend, got me thinking: In these days of virtual relationships, is Te'o's story really all that far-fetched?
The fact is, I have several very good friends whom I've met in person only once or twice, and a couple I've never actually met at all. One of my first articles for BSR concerned the unlikely story of my being invited to play the piano in Croatia as the result of a friendship I established on the website Myspacemusic. (See "My Croatian piano debut, with a little help from the Internet," October 2008.)
I'm still in touch with several people I met on Myspace five or six years ago; by now I've shared the same physical space with most of them at least once. But in each case, the online friendship preceded the physical meeting.
Are these people really my friends? Or does the fact that our relationships are conducted mostly (or entirely) online diminish their validity?
New options
The op-ed columnist Leonard Pitts argued recently that the point of the Te'o story wasn't the hoax, but rather the decline in the quality of 21st-Century human interaction. On the other hand, an article in my local paper urges grandparents to take up texting or risk being completely disconnected from their grandchildren's lives.
Isn't it possible that human interaction hasn't declined at all— that we've simply developed a new hierarchy of communication: in person, Skype, telephone, e-mail, snail mail? If an acquaintance or relative can't fit us into one method, we now enjoy other options for sustaining that relationship.
Of course, the Manti Te'o story isn't about keeping in touch with a family member; he was calling "Lennay Kekua" his girlfriend although he'd never been in the same room with her. Presumably someone was playing a cruel joke on an impressionable young man. But Te'o's only real mistake was to assign the wrong label ("'girlfriend") to the interaction.
My Canadian schoolmate
I grew up in western Canada and moved to Pennsylvania years ago. My best friend from middle school and high school still lives in Canada, but our relationship has deepened immeasurably in the last two years or so, during which we've spoken on the phone a few times but mainly communicated via email. In fact, we "talk" by e-mail almost every day, usually several times a day.
As a natural introvert who used to prefer letter writing to conversation— even with family members living under the same roof— I find e-mail is a very comfortable way to share information and feelings. Of course vocal inflections and facial expressions convey things that mere words can't. But if you write somebody long enough, often enough, and with enough candor, you can develop a very good sense of who the person is without being around him or her— because who we are has a great deal to do with how we think.
What is a friend? Someone you love and respect? Someone you trust and who trusts you? Well, must you have to have coffee once a week to have mutual affection and respect? These days, only in the fictitious world of TV shows like "Sex and the City" do friends get together for lunch or drinks on a regular basis. Who else has the time?
Should we meet?
I have one close friend whom I may never meet in person. Our contact has evolved over the years, starting with our mutual respect for our musical abilities, established via the old Myspacemusic site. Subsequently we moved on to Facebook, and recently to personal conversations, all conducted via e-mail. As our trust in each other has deepened, so has the depth of our self-revelation and mutual support.
The thought has crossed my mind that in order for this relationship to be "real," my friend and I should meet, at least once, or perhaps talk on the phone, despite the time zone differences. But I've come to realize that the quality of the communication is more important than the medium. In the 1987 film 84 Charing Cross Road, based on a true story, a transatlantic business correspondence about used books develops into a close friendship, even though the protagonists— played by Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins— never meet.
To be sure, someone apparently played a cruel online game with Manti Te'o's heart. But hearts can be broken in person, too.
The fact is, I have several very good friends whom I've met in person only once or twice, and a couple I've never actually met at all. One of my first articles for BSR concerned the unlikely story of my being invited to play the piano in Croatia as the result of a friendship I established on the website Myspacemusic. (See "My Croatian piano debut, with a little help from the Internet," October 2008.)
I'm still in touch with several people I met on Myspace five or six years ago; by now I've shared the same physical space with most of them at least once. But in each case, the online friendship preceded the physical meeting.
Are these people really my friends? Or does the fact that our relationships are conducted mostly (or entirely) online diminish their validity?
New options
The op-ed columnist Leonard Pitts argued recently that the point of the Te'o story wasn't the hoax, but rather the decline in the quality of 21st-Century human interaction. On the other hand, an article in my local paper urges grandparents to take up texting or risk being completely disconnected from their grandchildren's lives.
Isn't it possible that human interaction hasn't declined at all— that we've simply developed a new hierarchy of communication: in person, Skype, telephone, e-mail, snail mail? If an acquaintance or relative can't fit us into one method, we now enjoy other options for sustaining that relationship.
Of course, the Manti Te'o story isn't about keeping in touch with a family member; he was calling "Lennay Kekua" his girlfriend although he'd never been in the same room with her. Presumably someone was playing a cruel joke on an impressionable young man. But Te'o's only real mistake was to assign the wrong label ("'girlfriend") to the interaction.
My Canadian schoolmate
I grew up in western Canada and moved to Pennsylvania years ago. My best friend from middle school and high school still lives in Canada, but our relationship has deepened immeasurably in the last two years or so, during which we've spoken on the phone a few times but mainly communicated via email. In fact, we "talk" by e-mail almost every day, usually several times a day.
As a natural introvert who used to prefer letter writing to conversation— even with family members living under the same roof— I find e-mail is a very comfortable way to share information and feelings. Of course vocal inflections and facial expressions convey things that mere words can't. But if you write somebody long enough, often enough, and with enough candor, you can develop a very good sense of who the person is without being around him or her— because who we are has a great deal to do with how we think.
What is a friend? Someone you love and respect? Someone you trust and who trusts you? Well, must you have to have coffee once a week to have mutual affection and respect? These days, only in the fictitious world of TV shows like "Sex and the City" do friends get together for lunch or drinks on a regular basis. Who else has the time?
Should we meet?
I have one close friend whom I may never meet in person. Our contact has evolved over the years, starting with our mutual respect for our musical abilities, established via the old Myspacemusic site. Subsequently we moved on to Facebook, and recently to personal conversations, all conducted via e-mail. As our trust in each other has deepened, so has the depth of our self-revelation and mutual support.
The thought has crossed my mind that in order for this relationship to be "real," my friend and I should meet, at least once, or perhaps talk on the phone, despite the time zone differences. But I've come to realize that the quality of the communication is more important than the medium. In the 1987 film 84 Charing Cross Road, based on a true story, a transatlantic business correspondence about used books develops into a close friendship, even though the protagonists— played by Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins— never meet.
To be sure, someone apparently played a cruel online game with Manti Te'o's heart. But hearts can be broken in person, too.
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