So much for Facebook and Twitter, most of us have only two real friends. How many do I, and the others we asked, admit to?
Zoe Williams: 'I have five friends'. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian
A quarter of a century ago, before Facebook, back in the day when you had to be indoors to phone somebody, we had an average of three friends each. The study – by Time Sharing Experiments for the Social Sciences (TESS for short, and I'd definitely like to be her friend, she sounds fun) defined friends as close confidantes, people to whom you can tell anything. And now, when we're Facebooked and Twittered up to our eyebrows, when we feel as if we've spent 40 days and nights in the desert after a half hour on the underground, how many friends do we have (expectant drumroll…)? Two. Not 857, after all. (And while we're here, "friended" is not really a verb.)
This isn't the first time an academic has poured cold water on the emotional possibilities of the Facebook phenomenon. Professor Robin Dunbar, in the early 1990s, proposed Dunbar's number, the theoretical cognitive limit to the number of people with whom one can maintain social relationships. He defined these as relationships in which an individual knows who each person is, and how each person relates to every other person, though if you applied that to my boyfriend, it would drop to about 15 and I'm worried about whether or not my sister would be in it.
I prefer the TESS definition, or better still, the Portuguese saying, "You have five friends, and the rest is landscape." I was reading an interview with a young person recently (nope, name, occupation, purpose… all completely gone, the only bit I remember is this next bit) in which he said that he'd realised that a friend is someone who will drop what they're doing and come and help you, if you need it.
I thought it was weird that a person whose formative years occurred post-internet needs to have that spelled out, but it also struck me that you can only perform that office for a handful of people, and you would ideally (unless you're some kind of grifter) want a balance, between the people who you'll drop everything for, and those who'll drop everything for you. So I have five friends. For my own amusement, I shuffle them up and down the top-five hierarchy, and sometimes kick one out for a new friend, only to have to put them back in when I remember that you can't make old friends. A couple of couples I bust in on a technicality, by thinking of them as one person. But still, five friends. The rest is landscape.
Ken Thompson. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian
Name: Ken Thomspon, 59, auxillary nurse, Hartlepool
Close friends: Six
I have half-a-dozen friends I would confide in – the work I do is high pressure, so workmates become close.
Kirsty Thompson. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian
Name: Kirsty Thompson, 24, dance teacher, Newcastle
Close friends: One or two
I know people who tell their secrets to everyone but I like to keep things to myself.
Nav Sing. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian
Name: Nav Singh, 18, support worker, Hertfordshire
Close friends: five or six
I have five or six friends but only one or two who I would tell everything to.
Gabrielle Lawson. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian
Name: Gabrielle Lawson, 25, project assistant, Newcastle Close friends: three
I am a bit picky so it's probably fewer than other people.
Lewis Brown. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian
Name: Lewis Brown, 25, Rugby League player, New Zealand Close friends: three
I play in a team of 17 and they are all friends but I have three best friends. I don't tell the whole team everything, but when you tell one person, everyone ends up knowing about it.
Earl Jones. Photograph: Graeme Robertson
Name: Earl Jones, 30, charity fundraiser, London
Close friends: three
You can count your closest friends on your hand – the close, close ones.
Joe Rai. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian
Name: Joe Rai, 20, construction consultant, Milton Keynes
Close friends: four or five
Most of my friends are in their late 20s and 30s because young kids are immature.
Ann Brewer. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Ann Brewer, 52, midwife, Darlington
Close friends: six
I have half a dozen really old friends. There's nothing I would not tell them and I hope I am a good friend too – I must be because they ring me in the early hours!
This isn't the first time an academic has poured cold water on the emotional possibilities of the Facebook phenomenon. Professor Robin Dunbar, in the early 1990s, proposed Dunbar's number, the theoretical cognitive limit to the number of people with whom one can maintain social relationships. He defined these as relationships in which an individual knows who each person is, and how each person relates to every other person, though if you applied that to my boyfriend, it would drop to about 15 and I'm worried about whether or not my sister would be in it.
I prefer the TESS definition, or better still, the Portuguese saying, "You have five friends, and the rest is landscape." I was reading an interview with a young person recently (nope, name, occupation, purpose… all completely gone, the only bit I remember is this next bit) in which he said that he'd realised that a friend is someone who will drop what they're doing and come and help you, if you need it.
I thought it was weird that a person whose formative years occurred post-internet needs to have that spelled out, but it also struck me that you can only perform that office for a handful of people, and you would ideally (unless you're some kind of grifter) want a balance, between the people who you'll drop everything for, and those who'll drop everything for you. So I have five friends. For my own amusement, I shuffle them up and down the top-five hierarchy, and sometimes kick one out for a new friend, only to have to put them back in when I remember that you can't make old friends. A couple of couples I bust in on a technicality, by thinking of them as one person. But still, five friends. The rest is landscape.
Real friends: how many do you have?
Ken Thompson. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Ken Thomspon, 59, auxillary nurse, Hartlepool
Close friends: Six
I have half-a-dozen friends I would confide in – the work I do is high pressure, so workmates become close.
Kirsty Thompson. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Kirsty Thompson, 24, dance teacher, Newcastle
Close friends: One or two
I know people who tell their secrets to everyone but I like to keep things to myself.
Nav Sing. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Nav Singh, 18, support worker, Hertfordshire
Close friends: five or six
I have five or six friends but only one or two who I would tell everything to.
Gabrielle Lawson. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Gabrielle Lawson, 25, project assistant, Newcastle Close friends: three
I am a bit picky so it's probably fewer than other people.
Lewis Brown. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Lewis Brown, 25, Rugby League player, New Zealand Close friends: three
I play in a team of 17 and they are all friends but I have three best friends. I don't tell the whole team everything, but when you tell one person, everyone ends up knowing about it.
Earl Jones. Photograph: Graeme Robertson Name: Earl Jones, 30, charity fundraiser, London
Close friends: three
You can count your closest friends on your hand – the close, close ones.
Joe Rai. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Joe Rai, 20, construction consultant, Milton Keynes
Close friends: four or five
Most of my friends are in their late 20s and 30s because young kids are immature.
Ann Brewer. Photograph: Graeme Robertson for the Guardian Name: Ann Brewer, 52, midwife, DarlingtonClose friends: six
I have half a dozen really old friends. There's nothing I would not tell them and I hope I am a good friend too – I must be because they ring me in the early hours!
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