Last week I was almost convinced. Spending time with some young media types busily posting on their phones throughout a very glamorous dinner was, at first, predictably annoying. It was every cliche in the Instagram book – photos of food, selfies of themselves in situ, close-ups of the floral arrangements, their place cards etc. And, once again, my reaction was involuntary but familiar, as my teeth starting grinding and my hands made tightly wound fists under the tablecloth.
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"Check this out," one girl said, passing her phone to another seated beside me. "Not bad," the recipient responded. "I only got 200 likes."
Two hundred? Surely, in the time it took me to drink one glass of wine, that many people couldn't have registered their approval of a photograph of a place card at a lunch they weren't invited to? Surely people can't be that bored with their own lives that this is even possible?
Intercepting the phone being passed back, I checked and, not only was this count accurate, it had increased. It was then I clocked just how many followers this young girl had and noticed it was near on 40,000. She had to be 23 at best. And I couldn't stop myself asking her, "Why?"
"It's my brand," she explained. "I work hard at it. I post a few times a day and take it seriously. The more likes I get, the more paid posts I get."
Paid posts? "Hell yes," she replied, whispering the amount she can earn with the momentary twiddle of two thumbs mentioning a product or place.
As much as I wanted to scream, I couldn't. Perhaps it's time I woke up and smelt the potent cash in social media roses.
You see, I have always deemed Instagram the devil. To me, it is a just a reflection pond for narcissists, all images and very little message.
And every time I have glanced at a stream, I have been left feeling lacking – the gorgeous clothes, unending smiles, beaming and happy children, enviable homes and the perfect body bikini shots.
That night, I turned on my favourite new series Black Mirror, set in the near future where technology is slightly more advanced.
"If technology is a drug – and it does feel like a drug – then what, precisely, are the side effects?" its British creator Charlie Brooker explained to the Guardian.
"The black mirror is the one you'll find on every wall, on every desk, in the palm of every hand: the cold, shiny screen of a TV, a monitor, a smartphone.”
It was a reminder for me that in the shiny world of social media, being liked doesn't make you likeable. That being popular doesn't mean you aren't lonely.
And projecting perfection isn't going to make it a reality.
It also reminded me to be dubious about those who spend their lives reflected in black mirrors, having images acknowledged yet not hearts, minds and spirits. It may give an income but at what price?
Because looking good doesn't necessarily make you feel good. It just makes it harder for people to hear the real you scream from under the self-imposed artifice.
Nope, I'd rather earn a living writing about my foibles rather than fabricating an image that I have none. I'd rather be authentic than aspirational, and concentrate on genuine relationship than spikes in likes.
If anything, I am now more determined to stay away from the siren call of self-promotion and concentrate instead on self-awareness. It might not make me friends but at least I will like myself.
