We always knew that Facebook had the capacity to turn into a right pain in the arse. All those emails to tell you there were emails waiting for you, and the friend requests and the spammy events invites and the poker invites and the quiz likeness challenges… you couldn’t deny that Facebook overcame the old Friendster problem of there being nothing to do on a social network. But are you really so keen to be allocated new tasks?

On Facebook, it feels like you’re stuck aboard a raft in a sea of wasted time: stuff to do all around, and not a drop that actually matters.

All of which you might say is a pretentious way to start my personal Facebook backlash, which isn’t what I want to do. Backlash is too violent a term for what is, really, a slow incoming tide of weariness. Truth is I’ve just been using the site less, without really thinking about it.

The Facebook application that bridges the site with Twitter was the breakthrough; it means I’ve started using Twitter more, finding its simple mechanism for releasing inane status updates to be a refreshing change to Facebook’s bloat. I’ll doubtless stay a member of Facebook, just in case anything happens on it of professional interest. And it is a way to stay in touch with some folk. But I’ll end up going there no more often than the dull, besuited world of LinkedIn.

Weariness isn’t very cerebral. But, luckily, others are coming up with smart reasons to ease up on the Facebook obsession. Tom Hodgkingson, in the Guardian the other week, famously took issue with pretty much everything to do with the site, not least the political views of some of the its backers (views which, it must be said, are not unusual in Silicon Valley, or the tech world). In the Observer last year, John Naughton didn’t like the company’s crazy valuation and Microsoft links (although, again, neither is unusual in the digital world).

It’s an issue of trust, says Mark Glaser of Mediashift. He points to lots of bloggers quitting the site because of privacy concerns, which always seems a little odd to me - putting personal details on Facebook (or your blog) and then complaining about a loss of privacy is like a stripper complaining about being spotted nude.

Glaser’s points get closer to the reasons for my apathy, but privacy really isn’t a concern. There’s an obvious cause and effect here, folks, and it’s naive to imagine there isn’t some kind of trade going on as you carefully type in all those favourite movies, books and TV shows to your profile. You gain a way to pass the time, make connections, project self, or whatever the hell else you do on social networks or your blog. In return, someone somewhere is selling your demographic like it’s going out of fashion fast, and harassing you to spread their crappy Facebook application to all your friends so they can get some scale and, eventually, payback of some kind.

Just like Second Life did, Facebook thinks it’s a platform. But if it is, that’s only in a very narrow sense. On the real platform - the internet, the only platform that matters - the utility of the thing isn’t compromised by the profiteering around the outside. The email still works. All your friends don’t get spammed because you click on a misleadingly titled button. You can choose to spend all your time at earnest, useful places. The maddening crowd feels far away.

On Facebook, it’s in your face. So that real-world social faux-pas is only a click away. Facebook’s Inbox occasionally carries a message from a dear, lost friend, but it’s always clunky and full of group spam. And, below, you’ve got a million-and-one requests for stuff you’ll never do - no, I don’t bloody well play online card games. You’ve still to figure out what the hell a poke actually means.

In other words, it’s all a bit of a pain in the arse. And that, I suspect, may slow its growth more than any well-argued concern about libertarian takeovers, or frets that potential employers will deny us jobs based on our stated favourite films or an unfortunate SuperWall picture.

Facebook’s founders could ease the hassle factor, and pursue a course of locking down on development on their “plaftorm”, a little like Apple plans to do with the iPhone or console developers do with games. They could make sure only applications which meet a certain minimum standard see light of day.

But you have to doubt they’d do anything quite so communistic. And, with users unable to find ways to navigate through the noise, maybe boredom will slowly kill something that was only ever a diversion. By that point, I’m sure we’ll all have found something new, anyway.

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