No New (Social Media) Friends

On the X-odus, Blueky, Threads, and leaving social media

Child’s Play (1988).

I deleted my X account. Deleting a social media account of my own volition was a new experience, but I felt it necessary. Since Elon Musk took over the site it has descended into a Hellmouth, albeit one without a vampire slayer like Buffy Summers to protect us from the demons, the nazis, and people with no lives who like to spend their days arguing with strangers online.

I’m not the first to do so. The site has hemorrhaged users since Jack Dorsey sold the app to Musk in 2022. But in the wake of Donald Trump winning the presidential election again, the knowledge that Musk wielded the site as a right-wing propaganda tool and will continue to do so (while also potentially holding a position in Trump’s cabinet) was enough to make me leave. News outlets like The Guardian have begun to follow suit. A handful of users on the site still use X because it’s comfortable. They can talk about their favorite reality shows there. They can trade dick pics. You know, the usual online shit. Most people have gotten used to avoiding the racism, the right-wing conspiracy theories, the bots that pop up in your mentions, and the Trump-related ads in between every other post.

But doesn’t it all just feel… exhausting?

I’ve received multiple DMs from Keep It listeners or messages from Frank subscribers asking me to sign up for Bluesky. And I did. I also joined Threads. Unfortunately, I still find both incredibly exhausting. Most of my time on Bluesky is spent trying to find people that I used to follow on Twitter/X. In between that, my feed is full of people proclaiming how much fun Bluesky is and how positive it is. I feel like I’d find it a lot more fun if it every other post wasn’t someone writing a variation of that. Or writing a variation of “owning a library card is a green flag.” Or seeing people harass larger accounts to follow them back. It reminds me of the halcyon BuzzFeed days of Twitter, when a follow back from someone at BuzzFeed or somewhere else in media might get you a job or more attention on your blog, etc. Now that there are less media jobs to go around and everyone has a podcast or a substack or just generally wants their opinion to be elevated in a sea of opinions, it feels like a new desperation for followers has set in.

Not to be Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon, but “I'm too old for this shit!” I’ve had a podcast for seven years. I have a newsletter. I have a book coming out that I would love to use social media to promote, which is mostly why I’m even using Bluesky and Threads at the moment. But my desire to have conversations with strangers has massively dwindled.

As the internet splinters into a myriad of places to share your thoughts, I am tired of sharing my thoughts on every single thing that pops into my head. Or maybe it’s from over a decade of sharing my thoughts, essentially for free, only to be rewarded with dwindling media jobs and dwindling podcast ad sales.

I love the internet as a place for people to find community. But as a writer, I’ve found more joy this year finding community at friends’ poetry readings, at a bar talking shit about a play I just saw with a couple of friends, or arguing about new music at a party.

Recently my friend Natasha launched a salon series in her Upper West Side apartment. The idea is to invite friends and friends of friends to discuss culture — and enjoy great food and cocktails — in a relaxed setting. A setting where you know the person you’re debating isn’t a teenager. A setting where the person you’re debating has probably seen the film, book, play, or whatever you’re discussing and isn’t just pretending to because they need to feel included in online arguments.

I’ve realized I’ve not grown tired of conversations. But sometimes, there are too many going on.