'I almost lost a friend because of social media'

"Maintaining genuine connections in the digital age requires ongoing communication, understanding, and a willingness to redefine the boundaries of friendship."

Milla and I met on the first day of kindergarten, forty-odd years ago.

Beautiful, vivacious, and self-assured, Milla seemed to have it all. As a shy, quiet introvert, I think I was initially enamoured of Milla’s confident, outgoing ways. While I hated people looking at me and primarily enjoyed my own company, Milla thrived on being surrounded by an adoring crowd. We were true opposites, but for some reason, we just clicked. From that very first day, she was the yang to my yin.

As you can imagine of a friendship that’s spanned decades, we’ve seen each other through prank calls, puberty, first periods, first crushes, first heartbreaks, messy nights, university degrees, career changes, marriages, births, and even the death of a parent.

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Milla has always been my go-to person. She probably knows more about me than my husband. What we have is so solid and authentic, and I thought that would never change.

Enter social media.

As we all know, platforms like Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, and Twitter allow us to showcase our lives, interests, and passions to the world. As social media has grown in popularity, many of us have embraced it as a means of connection. Sharing our daily experiences, milestones, and even our innermost thoughts has become second nature.

Milla has always been creative and expressive. She starred in all the school plays, loves photography, and is ridiculously photogenic. Paired with her outgoing personality and love of people, this made her a natural fit for the world of social media. As her follower count began to grow, so did her ambitions. Milla had a knack for capturing the essence of moments and turning them into captivating stories that garnered likes, comments, and shares.

Her social media pages are truly gorgeous — works of art almost — starring her beautiful life and her beautiful family and her beautiful home. They’re littered with photos of her and her daughter dressed in matching frocks, laughing with her husband and son who are of course dressed in matching shorts and T-shirts; of her and her husband on romantic dinner dates or arm-in-arm at covetable black-tie events; of her lounging by the pool on exotic islands or shopping in chic European boutiques.

I also have a beautiful life and a beautiful family and a beautiful home, but I find sharing on social media really uncomfortable. I’ve always been a super private person who’s kept my life close to my chest. I just don’t like putting it all out there. I also think there’s a lazy part of me that honestly just can’t be bothered. I respect that it takes a lot of effort to create content for social media, and as much as I wish I did, I just don’t have the energy.

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Ingrid J. Adams has experienced the strain social media can put on a friendship. Picture: Supplied

"Social medial doesn't come organically to me"

When I published my first book, I balked when my publisher told me it was essential I be active on social media. I’m not artistic and I’m not a natural sharer so I resisted until I was blue in the face. I’ve often said I wish I was an author living in the 80s or 90s, back when it was possible to simply be a writer and nothing more. Anonymity was a thing back then. These days, authors need to be content creators. They need to have a social media presence on BookTok and Bookstagram. They need to connect with readers and influencers online or they’re dead in the water. 

Of course I eventually succumbed to social media, but it definitely doesn’t come organically to me. My one rule was that I would always be authentic, because I’ve always been a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda person. But I have to force myself to stay active and post regularly.

Milla, on the other hand, thrives on it. She seems to have an endless well of energy and creativity inside of her which is why she’s so damned good at it. While I have my notifications turned off, Milla does not, and I can see the thrill of excitement on her face with every little ding that signifies someone has engaged with one of her posts.

While I admire her talent and creativity, I soon began to sense a shift in our friendship dynamics. Milla started to view our time together as potential content for her socials. Emotional conversations would often be interrupted by her quest for the perfect Insta-worthy shot, and outings became opportunities to capture content rather than simply enjoy each other's company.

When it came to gift exchanging, I knew anything I gave her had to be wrapped perfectly so she’d be able to shoot an ‘unboxing video’ (well, I’d have to shoot a video of her unboxing my gift and looking thrilled and surprised, even on the third or fourth take).

I was mindful to ensure my nails were done before seeing Milla. Because I knew I’d be instructed to hold a prop in one of her photos: a plate of food, a smoothie, a book, a bunch of flowers… whatever would make a good picture in that moment. The times my manicure wasn’t up to scratch she’d made it not-so-subtly clear it was to the detriment of her photos. 

We recently went away together for the weekend, her family and mine. Milla insisted we all hike to a waterfall in the middle of nowhere, so, moaning kids in tow, we made the hour long trek up a mountain through the bush. When we finally reached the waterfall, Milla was so focused on taking pictures I don’t think she even stopped to take in the natural beauty and serenity. And as much as they begged, she wouldn’t swim with her kids because she didn’t want to mess her hair up.

The growing divide between my and Milla’s genuine connection and her quest for content left me feeling like an accessory to her online persona rather than a valued friend. She became obsessed. The more Milla curated her online presence, the more I questioned whether our friendship was rooted in authenticity or simply an act for the digital stage.

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The young adult author and mother-of-four said didn't know why people felt the need to lie about their lives on social media. Picture: Supplied

"I was saddened by the fake persona"

So how great an impact does social media have on our relationships these days? I think the crux of the issue is that the lines between authenticity and performance have blurred. People aren’t just sharing their lives, they’re curating them for an audience. In the process, genuine connections are being sacrificed for the superficial allure of likes and followers.

Maybe because I’m so close to Milla and I know the real story behind each and every photo and reel, what she shares doesn’t always sit well with me. We went shopping together the other day for something special to wear to her upcoming birthday party (the party itself was to be fabulously insta-worthy, of course). Milla ended up splurging on an exquisite dress, with a crazy price tag she ummed and erred over and eventually split over three cards so her husband wouldn’t find out how much she’d spent.

Picture my face, the day before the party, when I saw she’d posted a new reel: her opening a beautifully wrapped package… which turned out to be the aforementioned dress. Underneath the post, the caption gushed over how amazing her husband was, going out all by himself to select and buy this perfectly fitting, lavish dress just to spoil her for her birthday.

I wasn’t shocked, so much as saddened she felt the need to create this false persona and fake life, when her real life and persona were already so incredible. Milla is smart, beautiful, talented, successful, a wonderful wife and mother… Why couldn’t she just be her true magnificent self?

And then came my birthday. Milla insisted on doing something special, just the two of us, and invited me over for dinner. Milla doesn’t cook, so you can imagine my surprise when I walked in to find two gorgeously plated meals sitting at a perfectly set table. When I expressed how touched I was that she’d dusted off her apron and oven for me, she merely laughed and told me she’d ordered it from the restaurant down the road. And I wasn’t allowed to touch it until she’d finished photographing and filming it. We eventually sat down to a cold, congealed dinner, and of course the next day I saw the beautiful photos online, alongside claims Milla had whipped the special dinner up with her own two hands for her bestie, followed by a plethora of crazy hashtags.

The irony was, she’d been so busy checking her social media over dinner, giggling and gasping over comments and likes, we’d barely had time to catch up. Every time her phone dings, she literally cannot NOT pick it up. 

I actually went home that night feeling really flat. Milla was out of control, swept up in the addictive nature of social media. I began to question whether our friendship had been a casualty. Is it possible to maintain meaningful friendships in a world where every experience is filtered through the lens of a smartphone camera? Can authenticity and connection survive the relentless pursuit of digital validation?

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'Maintaining genuine connections in the digital age requires ongoing communication, understanding, and a willingness to redefine the boundaries of friendship.' Picture: Supplied

"We made up as we always have"

Our friendship had changed, there was no denying that. However, I love Milla and I wasn't ready to let our relationship crumble. Instead, I geared myself up and chose to have an open and honest chat about how her social media pursuits had affected us. It wasn’t the most fun conversation I’ve ever had, but it was necessary. 

We talked it through for a long time, and although initially defensive, by the time I left her that night, Milla seemed to get it. As it turns out, she admitted her husband felt the same way I did and had also had enough. The two of them had been fighting a lot about it lately.

After I went home, Milla filmed a tearful video explaining how she’d gotten caught up in the pursuit of online success and had lost sight of the importance of genuine, meaningful connections.

And then she posted it online. 

To her credit, it got an unprecedented amount of likes and comments.

The irony of this was completely lost on her. And after I pointed it out, we didn’t speak for some time.

After weeks of radio silence, Milla turned up on my doorstep with a bunch of flowers, a tearful apology, and her phone firmly tucked away in her purse. I’d missed her dearly, so of course I forgave her. We made up as we always have and we always will.

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"They only seemed to interact when comparing likes"

In the aftermath, we both agreed that our friendship would require a redefinition of boundaries and priorities. We took steps to rebuild on more authentic terms. We agreed to set aside designated ‘offline’ moments when social media was off-limits. Milla’s husband and I also encouraged her to make a conscious effort to prioritise her emotional well-being over the pressures of online validation, to spend quality time with her kids and loved ones, to get back to what’s important, genuine, and real.

As Milla adjusted her perspective on social media, I also learned to more greatly appreciate her creative passion and the role it played in her life. We found a balance that allowed her to pursue her content creation while preserving the authenticity of our friendship.

I don’t think the issues Milla and I experienced are unusual these days. I watched a group of friends in their twenties out at dinner together the other night, all sitting and staring at their phones… Until one of them decided to take a photo, for which they all cuddled in close and posed and smiled brightly. Once the picture had been snapped, they all drifted back to their seats, sticking their heads back in their phones. They only seemed to smile and interact again when comparing comments and likes on the aforementioned photo they’d all just posted.

My experiences with Milla taught me that maintaining genuine connections in the digital age requires ongoing communication, understanding, and a willingness to redefine the boundaries of friendship.

Originally published as 'I almost lost a friend because of social media'