Facebook Hates Me

But I will not let it break me.

I signed on this morning and immediately, up there in the corner with the event invites and friend suggestions, pops up a box with a picture that gives me butterflies and the direction: "Reconnect with him. Send him a message."

The "him" in this case is a boy I had been kind of fascinated with for a while and with whom I had hooked up this summer, upon which occasion I promptly fell head-over-heels, giddy-teenager-esque in love, as I am wont to do when it comes to beautiful and unusual, heart-meltingly sweet, sexually ambiguous 26-year-olds who also happen to be spectacular kissers. A week later he moved halfway across the country and I haven't seen or heard from him since.

So, masochist that I am, I decide, "Ok, sure, I'll just click on his page and see what he's up to." I am then promptly greeted with a picture of him with a girl. On the beach. And she's cuter than me. And probably younger, too.

God damn it.

It's not like I had expected him to be pining away with love for me or anything. I mean, "we" only lasted about one (glorious) week, and it was ages ago. In fact, I had been pretty succesful these last 6 months, after a brief period of pining and self-pity, and — ok, fine — maybe a few ill-advised drunken texts, at forgetting all about him (which is why I hadn't just deleted him from my friends and avoided this whole thing, as some of you are surely going to point out). But I probably could have gone without being confronted with hard evidence reminding me that I've been erased from memory. Which I would have if the Facebook gods hadn't tricked me into it.

Fucking Facebook.

I bet they even did it on purpose. I bet if I look at the date the picture was posted (which I won't because I am not an Internet stalker, I am not an Internet stalker, I am not an Internet stalker...), it'll be like, yesterday, and the evil overlords over at Facebook HQ probably noticed immediately and were all, "Ok, NOW! It's go time! Let's get her!"

And I can't even vent about it on Facebook, as I usually would, because he might see it and think I'm some kind of obsessive freak (which I am not, I am not, I am not...) and then my friends would try to cheer me up with well-intended sympathy that'll just make me think about it more, and so on and so forth...

DAMN YOU, FACEBOOK! I WILL NOT SUCCUMB TO YOUR TREACHERY!!!

...but I still haven't deleted him.