Nobody really wants to get poked by a state senator. If only politicians understood that, maybe they'd stop trying to "friend" every potential voter on Facebook. As it is, you can't even sign on to update your status without some political candidate asking to be your friend, inviting you to be their fan, recruiting you to be an online supporter or poking you to see if you're logged on using that most hateful Facebook tool, the poke. The next election is a year away yet some of the hopefuls must spend every lunch hour and well into the night trolling online for more connections.

The definition of a "friend" has changed with the advent of online social networking sites. A friend used to be someone you know, like and trust. Now, a friend is a much more distant concept. A Facebook friend might be someone from first grade that you barely remember and haven't seen in 30 years, or someone you would never invite to lunch but you feel obligated to let in to your online buddy list only because they asked. A friend might even be a total stranger, somebody who got "recommended" to you because of a mutual acquaintance. The enemy of your enemy may be your friend, but the friend of your friend is still somebody you don't know. But what the heck. All rules of social engagement are being rewritten online.

However, being a Facebook friend doesn't mean being a political supporter. It doesn't mean they'll work on your behalf and spread the word. It doesn't mean they actually like you or even know who you are.

The opposite is true, though: If a politician gets un-friended, it's a pretty sure bet that a vote has been rescinded along with that network connection. Block, baby, block!

On the receiving end, accepting a politician as an online social network friend has certain liabilities. What if people think you really support that person? Some of them are so dorky and off-putting in their civilian lives, posting the most inane stuff about what they had for lunch and how excited they are to face a new day. Blah. Or they do really questionable things like posting pictures of themselves smiling and glad-handing at a memorial march for a crime victim, as if to say, "See how sincere I am?" Yuck.

The whole Facebook phenomenon is cooling off almost as fast as it heated up. By the next election, the wanna-be hipsters will have moved on to something new. But for now, it's a treacherous scene out there, with rampant hopeful friending as annoying as Saturday morning door-to-door pamphleting.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Sundays.