THE ART OF GOING IT ALONE

The once hallowed territory marked ‘private’ is shrinking by the hour. It’s time to defend it

With social networks on overdrive, there’s hardly any moment when you can tune out to hear your own thoughts much less process them. Yes, you can select your privacy settings and de-friend people, but they will always be there buzzing, tracking your moves, commenting on your photos and giving your status the thumbs up.

For all their noble intentions, social networks that aim to unite like-minded people have turned into tawdry confessionals where everyone is subjected to varying levels of banality. (“I hate women drivers,” rants one Facebook member. It elicited 11 thumbs up, and a chain of 32 comments.) It’s pervasive; it’s insidious and it makes occasion of the commonplace. (“Behind Jay Chou at a supermarket…,” a Twitter feed announces. Twelve comments followed. ) Through them, people have found a way of thwarting your best efforts at attaining cerebral hygiene by offering you the minutiae of their lives in the form of 140-byte feeds. (Bought iPad!!! Woohoo!, exclaims another Facebook post.)

Those who refuse the receiving end of what should have been an exchange are quickly dismissed as anti-social, a pejorative term that has – not surprisingly – since lost its sting.

I have been called anti-social on account of my inability to enjoy company-sponsored socials, the type where you stand around a punch bowl and tentatively trade blather. But even before that discovery, various recluses have always been my heroes: Emerson on Walden Pond, Garbo in NYC, Harper Lee in Monroeville, JD Salinger in New Hampshire. In them I find courage and true grit rather than insecurity cloaked as conformism cloaked as all-around amiability.

Just think, even Jesus went to the desert for 40 days to clear his head; wouldn’t this world be a better place if opinion mongers took just a couple of days off to actually think before they return to tweeting?

It is difficult to go it alone. Social structures will test your fortitude whenever you dine, watch a play or go to a polo match without company. Even an innocent stroll in the park is suspect if you are by yourself. People expect you to have company; hosts encourage you to bring someone along. If you happen to sit next to an empty chair, your crestfallen hostess will move things around to find you a suitable seatmate and, hopefully, a future match.

As I will not suffer fools gladly or endure a boring conversation, I devised the following to protect my precious solitude. Firstly, remain accommodating to reasonable requests. Most people will not quit until they get through to you, until they feel you’re friends. Secondly, don’t call attention to yourself. People are naturally curious and will not stop probing until they feel they’ve solved the mystery. Thirdly, if all else fails, tell them that for reasons relating to race or creed, you are not joining the company chorale. They’ll get the hint.

So as the self-appointed leader in your office collects the six-odd members of his platoon of co-dependents, whose ritual cafeteria lunches are the highlights of their working lives, roll up your copy of the Financial Times and know in your heart that instead of mindless patter you will find a column inch or two of lucid intellectual display.

Remember: People who need people are just needy people.