How to Successfully Overcome The Facebook Unfriending Dilemma

Wednesday, 11 March 2026.

We’ve all been there. You’re scrolling through your Facebook feed when you see a photo of a very impressive sourdough starter or a political rant written in all caps, and you think to yourself: “Wait, who is this person, and why am I being forced to hear about Trump before I’ve even finished my coffee?”

Welcome to the great Facebook unfriending dilemma, that awkward, digital purgatory where we hold on to supposed “friends” we last spoke to back when we were carrying a brand new iPhone X and being poked by strangers on a daily basis.

The Digital Hoarding of Friends

I think for so many of us, our friend list is a little bit like a collection of life stages and experiences. There are the coworkers from three jobs ago, the girls from our year twelve English class, and someone you think you may have met at a wedding in 2012. And somewhere along the line we seem to have collectively decided that by clicking on the accept friend request button, we’re entering into a lifelong contract, a blood oath that says, “I promise to witness all your family birthdays and holiday photos until one of us deletes our account. Or dies.”

This all came to a head recently when I saw a Facebook friend out in the wild. To my surprise, she made the briefest eye contact before looking away. And that would have been perfectly okay because honestly, we’re only the most tenuous of acquaintances.

Except for the fact that I’ve liked or commented on all of her big family milestones and proud parenting moments for the last six years.

The Guilt Of Unfriending

The problem is the guilt, right? Nobody wants to be the mean girl. I’ve found myself on the you’ve been unfriended end of the equation, and however little connection existed, there’s always the feeling of surprise, the tiniest hint of rejection, however fleeting. Not because you’re genuinely upset (especially when you haven’t been in the same room since 2005), but because they beat you to it and now you feel like a dumbass for trying to spare them the non-existent heartbreak. I mean, are we seriously worried that if we run into them somewhere in five years time, it’ll be weird?

Because here’s the thing: it’s already weird. It’s weird that I know that you celebrated your 50th birthday with a Studio 54-themed bash and saw all your guest’s costumes but I don’t have your current phone number. It’s weird that I’m privy to the lives of your children when they have no clue who I am and we haven’t shared so much as a text message in a decade.

Pruning the digital Hedge

So, it’s time. Time to lean into some digital minimalism and – very gently – prune that list of friends. Time to take a leaf out of my children’s book, the generation who share almost nothing publicly except their Spotify Wrapped list. Back in 2016 I decided I’d like to have a private Instagram account dedicated to sharing some of our family highlights. And my adult children all made one simple request of me when I checked if that would be okay: if they don’t know who someone is, that person doesn’t need to be looking at photos of them. Period. And they were absolutely right.

So. How do you actually streamline your friend list?

The Official unfriending Rules

• The “in real life” test: if you saw them in the frozen food aisle tomorrow, would you actually say hello, or would you suddenly become very interested in the nutritional facts of a bag of peas? If it’s the latter, it’s time to say farewell.
• The four year rule: have you had a direct conversation in the last four years? Liking each other’s photos doesn’t count. If not, you aren’t friends, just digital pen pals who stopped writing.
• The “head punish” check: does seeing their posts make you feel inspired, happy, or connected? Or do you find yourself rolling your eyes at their posts? Life is too short for a feed that drains your battery, and this doesn’t sound like an authentic friendship.
• The compassionate rule: are you, at the very least, commenting on life’s big things? The passing of parents, the life and death moments and health scares where even the least interested “friend” can leave a few words of encouragement? Because if someone can’t take thirty seconds to send you their condolences, it’s a no brainer: bye bye.
• The play it safe rule: there’s always an exception, and when they’re a relative, boss, or work colleague you should probably stay connected. This is where the mute or unfollow buttons are your best friend. On paper you’re still friends, but their political manifestos disappear from your morning coffee scroll and you’ve cleverly avoided starting shit.

And hopefully by sticking to the official rules you can avoid the bloodshed and angry texts I’ve triggered in the past when my blunt Balkan brain went all trigger happy with that unfriend button. Trust me when I say that I’ve learned the hard way that it’s always smarter, and kinder, to gently unfollow.

Save the brute force of the unfriend button for someone who won’t even notice.

😉

P.S. If you landed here via my Facebook account, hello friend!