By Emma Carr
It started off as a normal Friday. I was up in the University Library, working on homework, checking Facebook — really normal stuff. While on Facebook, I decided to comment on a post left by a guy I’ve been dating – I’ll call him Peter. Once I had enough of my daily school routine, I decided to leave. I climbed into my car, and as I did, my Blackberry chimed informing me that I had something I needed to check out on Facebook.
My “smart” Blackberry feels the need to inform me when other people have commented on my comments. I wish it didn’t. It sets me up with false hope that someone posted something on my wall. Checking the disappointing message took an unusual turn. Peter’s post was now adorned by another response in addition to my own, his ex-girlfriends’. Great. Better judgment and maturity would have led me to say “who cares” but it was out of my control. The FOMO, fear of missing out, took over and the situation was larger than me. I clicked on her page link. Not blocked. I don’t know what I was doing there or what I was expecting to find, but that’s the funny thing about FOMO, you can go from normal to creepy in the click of a wink.
As I scrolled down to look at the rest of her page, my evil phone played a sick joke on me. Somehow I had accidently “liked” one of her statuses — OH MY LORD! And other words came to mind.
I was screaming inside my head. My body burned from embarrassment. I can’t “unlike” posts on my Blackberry, so, I jumped out of my car and ran — yes, ran — back to the library. Why the hell did I wear flip-flops today?! I’m pretty sure I was sweating and panting by the time I reached the library. I can’t be sure. It all happened so fast. I leaped onto the nearest computer, tears forming from behind my eyes and “unliked” my grave mistake. I read the post I had accidently “liked” which said something about her going out of town to the coast. Wonderful. My “liking” of the post could easily have been translated to a crazy-girl-passive message of “Good, and stay out.”
I could see the restraining order now: “Emma Carr you are to stay 500 yards away from Peter and his ex-girlfriends at all times and stay off all Facebook pages!” Somehow my Blackberry would play another horrible joke on me and this would be the result of jail time. I spent the rest of the day scraping up the little dignity I had left and went home where I searched for a rock to die under. I never found out whether she saw the “like” or not, and quite frankly I’d rather not know. I’ve realized denial works best for me.
Lessons learned? Be cautious. And always have tennis shoes in your car, just in case your phone is as cruel as mine. You never know when your next mad dash to save your self-respect will come.
