And other things I thought about while getting dumped.
Breakups are terrible. But they are especially shitty when your curated social media life is now a living, breathing reminder of your dead relationship. “Every recent post is of us traveling or adopting a cat (seriously, we just got a cat), how could you possibly be breaking up with me?” — An actual thought I had and may have said out loud during one of our five break up conversations.
I suppose it’s my own fault, I chose to b̶r̶a̶g̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ share our relationship with my l̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶ 500 followers and I should have been prepared to deal with the consequences of it not working out. I’m not prepared though — to deal with either the Instagram or real world consequences. So instead, I am going to channel my “I just got dumped” energy and flow of complicated emotions into writing this piece in which I debate the various methods of re-entering social media and the dating world as a newly single woman in her (very) early thirties. I have no idea if this will come out as funny or a little pathetic, so bear with me — it’s a weird time. At least I am equally as willing to share my breakup as I was to share my filtered couple photos.
To purge or not to purge, that is the question.
Before the unexpected breakup, and by unexpected I mean — I asked him if he wanted anything for lunch and he said “No, I’m not hungry but I think we should break up.”, we had traveled around Asia and Hawaii for almost three months. That’s right, I had quit my job to travel the world with this guy not six months earlier and now I’m getting dumped while contemplating which Trader Joe’s frozen burrito I wanted for lunch. I digress, the point is he’s in most of my epic travel photos. So do I delete them, thus basically deleting the experiences I’ve had over the past four years? Or do I leave them up for the world (and me when I’m crying and miss him) to look back on? Deleting would leave my Insta feed with only a photo compilation of my sister’s babies and my parent’s dogs, and leaving them would make it impossible for me to link my Instagram account to my new Hinge profile.
Let’s be honest -I’m not deleting anything right now, but it’s very likely that one night I will drink an entire b̶o̶x̶ bottle of wine and the next morning half of my Instagram posts will have disappeared. If you see this happen, please send Advil and cookies.
I should have taken more solo pics…
Because he is in ALL of the good photos of me from the past four years. How am I supposed to set up a dating profile when all of my pictures are with my ex o̶r̶ ̶m̶i̶r̶r̶o̶r̶ ̶s̶e̶l̶f̶i̶e̶s̶? Is scratching his face out of all the good ones and using them anyway bad-ass, or is it sad? Because, I am seriously considering the following:
Luckily, I only gained like 5–10 pounds of relationship weight and I would still consider myself extremely fuckable (despite my current state of emotional instability). So if there are any aspiring photographers out there looking to add to their portfolio — hit me up, I need some new shots.
Love, companionship, and staying home on a Saturday to watch Netflix without it being a little sad — are great. But the real win of being in a committed relationship is that you no longer have to fuck with condoms. I’m not talking about taking your chances on babies or anything — Mirena is all up in my uterus, I just mean you know that ish is clean so you don’t have to mess with latex. I really feel like my vagina will protest having to go back to condoms after all these years, and I do not blame her.
Can I ask all future dates to show up with the results of a recent STI test so we can skip the condom phase, or is that going too far?
And yes, I am also having all of the “will I ever find love again”, “why aren’t I good enough”, and “fuck you, you didn’t deserve me anyway” thoughts — those are just more upsetting and way less gif-able. So for now, I’ll stick with the social media/online dating related problems and do everything I can to channel my inner Lizzo: