IF I DISAPPEAR FROM YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA FEED, SOME FUCK-BOY HURT MY FEELINGS

I have never really been a huge fan of social media.

You can ask just about anybody who has known me for real; it’s not my thing. I had quite the time on Facebook as a high school girlie. Back then, the comparisons weren’t about how many likes you received, but rather how many people wished you a happy birthday. I used to log on sporadically to check in to see who rang in my new year and take a mental note of who wouldn’t be hearing from me on their DOB. Needless to say, social media was not the healthiest thing for me.  It took all my time, and a lot of energy, and had me oversharing; I probably had six status updates a day. Yes, I was that girl. Also, social media made it so that there were extra rules to follow. Rules made up by no one, yet everyone seemed to know what they were. It was a kind of social media etiquette if you will. If we are friends, you like my photos. If I write on your wall, you reply on my wall for all to see and not as part of a thread. Remember that? Shitty rules! Little did I know that one day I would get tired of playing by the rules. One day they all got thrown out of the window.  I had to do something drastic.

Because some Fuck-Boy hurt my feelings.

ACT I

The first time I disappeared from social media was spring of my freshman year of college. It was 41 days before Easter and I just had to participate in Lent that year. I decided to give up Facebook. At first, the thought of ridding myself of social media was anxiety-inducing. It was like weaning an addict off of drugs. I had to distract myself with homework and putting in extra hours at the study hall. Eventually, it got easier. I thought to myself, “I don’t need this shit”. Easter Sunday came around and I decided, I DO need this shit. I eagerly logged back on that Sunday night though it eventually became low on my priority list.

That is until I started crushing on a “friend”. He was the type of “friend” who was really never my friend, you know? We always had this flirty thing going on, but we would both deny there was chemistry when questioned by mutual friends.  It was like, I knew I liked him and he more than likely liked me back. Think about it, why else would someone serenade you with gospel tunes on their guitar? While everyone was out painting the campus gold, we were inside doing rom-com shit.  So we kept hanging out and one night I decided to spend all night with him. Silly me to think that this friendship had blossomed into something more. I was dumbfounded when he said, “That was just fun.”

Fun? Being drunk was considered fun and we were sober! What the hell was he talking about? I don’t remember what else was said. The details are a little foggy now since I forgot about him and surely forgot about the sex. But I do remember being ASS HURT at the time.

I took it upon myself to do what I thought was a Facebook cleanse. Which really meant, getting petty and unfriending him. I canceled his ass. I went the extra mile to make my profile private so that even if he tried, he would just see my cute ass profile picture WITHOUT a location. I even left a comment on a picture he was tagged in so he would get notified of my comment, click on my profile, and find out the hard way that he was deleted from my friends list. I couldn’t see myself coming out of this situation. Especially not after the double embarrassment; he knows I like him AND he used me?

That sack of shit had to know that I meant business.

A “no-contact order” was in place… until I got over it and tried to add him back months later. He declined my Friend Request and I remember thinking he was SO childish.

He and I never spoke again.

ACT II

Social Media and I had been separated for approximately 3 years. Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, and Tinder had all made their way to the social scene and I avoided them all.  Which meant that I missed out on every opportunity to make a guy regret his poor choices when it came to mishandling me. I always fell into reflection mode after getting curved. Apparently I did everything needed to recover just enough to attract the next asshole that came my way. In hindsight, the same lesson kept showing up until I finally learned from it.

There was this “friend”. He was not a real friend but what else could I call him, a crush? He actually convinced me to get more active on Instagram because “it’s fun and it’s good for people to see more of you.”

Oh, so he’s looking at my page? Checking to see if I have recently posted? Of course, jumping to all these conclusions, I was flattered! What I really heard this dude say, is that he wants to have access to me and stare at me all day long. It was clear as day that he was interested in me and that was what made me interested in him. Little did I know he was for the streets.

We started talking and hanging out very heavily in the fall. We’d talk about family, work, sports, culture; you name it, we discussed it. Then one day it stopped.  Did this fool just ghost me? Now, one thing about me is that I have a haunting spirit; the ultimate ghost. You can’t just stop talking to me when we are catching a vibe and think I am not going to call you out. So that’s what I did. He responded very honestly and said that things were moving a bit fast for him and that he was fresh out of a relationship. I understood. So I thought.

Back in 2015, IG had an activity feed of people you follow, what pictures they like, and what posts they’ve commented on. I was stunned when I saw the amount of activity this dude was dishing out to this one girl. I thought, maybe it’s a friend and he really enjoys her content. But I said to myself, “Girl, you are not dumb”.  A week later they posted a photo to announce their relationship. I was livid. I understood when he said he didn’t want to be in a relationship, but I didn’t put it together that he just didn’t want to be in one with me. What a coward.

So what did I do next, you wonder? I will tell you what I did. I sent his ass a message. Congratulating him on finding what he was looking for.

Very passive-aggressively and petulantly.

ACT III

My social profiles managed to stay intact through all the drama back in ’15. Which meant I had every opportunity to show this guy just how much he mishandled me.

I was minding my business in turning 24 years old and getting ready to move out of state.  My phone dings and I look at my messages only to see a “Happy birthday, my gorgeous friend” text. Now I am looking over my shoulders. Who is he talking to? HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GORGEOUS FRIEND?! I was just on my way to forgetting about you and now you want to hit me with this? About a month later, we were back to being the old “friends” we had been.

But He Has a Girlfriend.

Yeah, but we were talking all night and he ended up professing his feelings for me.

Sir, Don’t You Have a Girlfriend?

“Yeah, but it kind of happened by mistake.”

Oh, You Don’t Really Like Your Girlfriend.

I sure was gullible and in desperate need of validation. I let it all slide. Plus, whatever connection I thought we made took precedent over whatever half-ass relationship they had. We remained “friends” but now I knew he wanted to know me, know me.

Shortly after, they broke up. Our “friendship” was growing stronger, but no arrows were pointing to the next phase. I was 24 years old, in a new city, with new friends and a new selection of men to choose from; plus long distance was unappealing. Aside from that, every so often he would remind me that he’s “just trying to chill.” I was cool with things being the way they were. As long as we were both single.

So it’s 2016 and IG still had the activity feed, you know, the one that showed what pictures people liked and what posts they’ve commented on? I know that I am to blame; my curiosity about the wrong subjects has really stunted my growth.

But I had to see what it was about this chick that he liked so damn much.

ACT IV

It was one of the worst things I have ever done to myself. The Insta-creeping didn’t happen just once. Does it ever happen only once? I found multiple ways to feed my insecurities. I checked her out and came up with a storyline of what she was like and how much she must have meant to him to get her “the title”. Anytime he posted something thought-provoking, sweet, or soft, I assumed it was always about her; the WRONG girl. I was burning up in a jealous rage. Perhaps this was my karma for not setting boundaries with a pig. I was salty like the ocean.

I had to let this low-down, dirty, for-the-streets, manipulative scrub know that I meant business.

Social media was never really my thing. Personally, I liked the idea of disappearing. Disabling my account so that his sorry ass will try to find me, FAIL, and spend time wondering about me. I put a “no-contact order” in place; a disabled account and a blocked number. Until I got over it, unblocked, and followed his account months later. He didn’t follow me back and I remember thinking… he is SO childish.

He and I haven’t spoken since.

Inspired from “Akuoma’s Emojinal Journal” June 6, 2018