I am on my way to meet a mum of two from Chicago who I have never met. We’ve been internet friends for three years. This is not the working plot line for series two of Making of a Murderer. This is my real life and, I know- that’s really weird. I’m going for tea with Elizabeth De La Piedra, otherwise known as @elizabethsmarton Instagram. If you’re not one of her 62.8K followers on Insty, why not? I found Liz on my explorer (stalker) page one day while knee-deep in a scroll hole. I blithely clicked follow and thought nothing of it. Then she clicked follow back.
Soon, a rapport began. I genuinely looked forward to Liz’s daily updates. The gorgeous, Peruvian-born, Australian-raised, Chicago-dwelling mama of one (then two) little boys continues, to this day, to be a highlight on my social feed. Liz’s thrift-shop wardrobe, home-made culinary treats, cute af boyfriend and burgeoning photography career, had me at “first like”. It wasn’t that I desired to be her, or longed to have her life- I felt connected to her like do anyone of my real-life friends. Despite the 4000 mile separation, I felt like we knew each other. We began a ritual of liking and commenting on each other’s pictures. I congratulated her on the birth of her second baby along with her friends, family and followers- which, strikes me as odd when I write it down. Liz is the first to appreciate any work that I share, and the first to comment little tiny heart faces in my selfies. We consistently look to affirm, compliment and support one another and it feels good- even if we’d never met. That might sound like an immensely superficial grounds for a friendship, but on Instagram pictures are all we pretty much have to go on - and I don’t see what’s wrong with a virtual girl-crush, especially if it’s reciprocated. Which in this case, it was. Liz isn’t my only internet friend either.
The reality is, that I’ve always been surrounded by women, and despite being a twin, with a man, I find myself again and again drawn to the women in the room. It’s probably why I started Babyface, with my best friend Claire, an agency and community that supports young creative women. Really and truly, the greatest romantic relationships of my life have been with women. I have loved men (maybe one -ish) but not with the same ferocity, focus and resolution as I have women. Once I decide we’re friends, good luck buddy. You will have to talk to my mum on speaker phone, join me for family funerals, weddings, christenings and Easters. You’ll meet my dad's wife and I’ll definitely send you pictures of my cat and let you know what I had as a mid-afternoon snack yesterday. Intimacy people, it’s not pretty up close. My poor, poor friends will testify.
Having said all of the above, the internet- that soul-zapping, cat-fishing, fake-news dustbin- or social media might not sound like the most reasonable places to make life-long friends on, their platforms built on false aspirations and highly-edited virtual realities. But, it’s also our greatest tool for connection when used positively. Instagram has been an amazing conduit for some of my most recent and meaningful female friendships.
I’ve actually got pretty decent IRL social skills (thanks, in part, to a childhood where the internet was contraband, so no MySpace or MSN for me or my twin brother). I was always better at chatting than I was emailing or texting. And I went to the same school as my twin, who made cock-blocking me his main extra-curricular activity throughout my formative years – which meant as a young girl I always has a female-only friendship group.
As a result, I found I felt strengthened by my female friends and comfortable and confident in their company. This continued through school and well into university. And while Tumblr (again, I’m sorry I was very late to the internet) trend passed me by, and regrettably I missed out on what sounds like a very fun time for feminism, Instagram now has me in a pretty firm choke-hold.
I have no doubt I spend way too much time scrolling on my feed, but along with Liz I’ve amassed a whole cohort of transatlantic besties that my life is better for having. On a recent trip to New York I hooked up with a long term URL turned IRL friend Danielle Greco, had a business meeting with someone I’d DM’d and made a new pal- Madeline Poole. Madeline runs her own pop-up-nail salonand we connected last year over Instagram. We had friends in common and what looked like similar-isa lives, and now thanks to it being 2017- adding someone you don’t know is a pretty normal thing to do. Much like my Liz story, It was “like at first sight”. I loved her style and what looked like pretty raucous NYC existence, I could imagine hanging out with her and shooting the shit together. Her captions made me chuckle and her male friends were all, absolutely, all very cute. As soon as I touched down at JFK she’d already DM’d me: “come by my office dude for nails and drinks”. By the end of my two week stay, I’d partied with her, got absolutely wasted with her, I snogged her mate, we’d visited exhibitions together and all-in-all we had segued, seamlessly from a social-media crush naturally, head-first into an authentic relationship with someone. Like magic.
The paradox about Instagram is that, despite at times being nothing short of a miserable vortex of hate and misogyny where the patriarch reigns supreme-sorry, it’s also another open-source platform for female friendship. Unfortunately, for whatever reason – let’s call it British-ness for now - it’s a tough thing to just start talking to another girl in a bar. It’s a shame, but we’re still not that chill about tapping someone on the shoulder and saying ‘hey, I love your photography, I’m Nellie nice to meet you, I already know your name is Sophie because I follow you online, and now I’m approaching you IRL’ because that’s considered bonkers and citizen’s arrest worthy.
I’m sure one of the reasons I feel so warmly to the internet as a medium for girls to connect, is because of Babyface. Babyface is a creative agency powered by an all-female collective and we’re basically trying to turn making gal-pals into a career- and it’s almost bloody working- thanks to the interweb, no less. For as dangerous as Instagram can be, it’s also a safe, somewhat edited way to meet people with a similar value-set as yourself with a low-risk exchange in order to do so: ‘Follow.’ Each time I’m in a new city, girls link me into Instagram threads with their girlfriends. So far, nothing but positive sorority vibes have taken come of those messages and that’s wonderful. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy thinking about it.
As for guys, don’t even think of sliding into my DMs, or adding me on Instagram before we’ve had face to face contact if you have romantic intent. I will block you.
**Liked this? You might also be interested in: **
When It Comes To Dating, When Did We All Start Being So Horrible To Each Other?
Millennials Are Terrified Of Being Alone, No Wonder We're All Zombeing Each Other
Follow Nellie on Twitter @nelliefaitheden
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.