Stalker exes and social media
Listen to this articleI think I’ve told you all before how I’m really not into social media. Aside from the occasional picture or video of the animals in my life I generally stay away from it.
Occasionally people get mad at me because I didn’t comment on some life event they posted on Facebook. Instagram was one of those apps that I wanted to check out, posted about five photos of absolutely nothing, then was over it (I mean, it’s mostly just glamour shots of food as far as I can tell). Don’t even get me started on Twitter. My youngest sister tried to teach me about that and I almost fell asleep halfway through her explanation of a hashtag.
However, there are some aspects of social media that just cannot be ignored because they are absolutely ridiculous and therefore hilarious to read on a regular basis. I can think of two people I am friends with on Facebook SOLELY for the fact that they post the most batshit crazy stuff you will ever read in your life. So, yeah, I might have missed the post about your grandmother’s 90th birthday party but I sure was up to date on the debate over whether puka shell necklaces are okay to put on your 3-month-old child (#never).
So when one of my favorite news sites reported about a new Instagram account called “Texts From Your Ex” and featured some of the best stalker-ish texts I’ve ever seen, I had to break my social media celibacy and subscribe. And I’m not sorry. There’s something so satisfying about 1) being able to read other people’s texts without consequence, and 2) seeing how crazy other people’s exes are because it makes you realize you aren’t the only one who has a nut job for an ex.
In the past I’ve had my share of men who have toed the line between “friend checking in” and “insane stalker.” There was one guy who wouldn’t speak to me for months and then all of a sudden I’d get a text that just said “Miss me?”, resulting in a conversation that would lead to a date and then another three-month disappearance until the next “Miss me?” No sir, I do not nor did I ever actually miss you.
One of my high school boyfriends contacted me through Facebook not long ago. I hadn’t spoken to him or any of his friends for at least ten years, so it was pretty random. He told me he had separated from his wife and asked if I had any friends to hook him up with. Sorry, that’s just a little too weird for my taste: “Hey Sharon, I dumped this guy but do YOU want to date him? Oh also, he is still legally married to his wife, with whom he has two young children.” I gave him a non-committal answer and got offline quickly.
Back when I was still young enough that I actually enjoyed being inside clubs, I went on a date with this meathead guy. There was no spark, our conversation was meh, he was wearing jewelry, etc. I rated the date as “okay” simply because I avoided getting murdered. Apparently he liked me more than I liked him, because he proceeded to call and text me every single day for exactly 43 days afterwards. I know it was 43, because my best friend counted each day. At first I thought I was being a bitch by never answering him but now I understand that if I had given this guy any encouragement, my finger bones would have been dangling from his earlobes as the perfect accessory to his Ed Hardy T-shirt.
Luckily as I’ve gotten older all of those men have either started other relationships or found other women to stalk, so now I can just read about other people’s stalkers from the comfort of my own home and sweatpants. “Texts From My Ex” only has about five posts up as of today but they are all juicy and hopefully, like a good stalker, will only get creepier as time goes on.
Emily Campbell is a perpetually single, 20-something girl-around-town who loves Shakespeare, old movies, Natty Boh, and of course, long walks on the beach. A sales manager by day and freelance writer by night, she was recently forced into a life of involuntary celibacy when her last relationship fizzled out over a text message. She’s tired of settling for second – or tenth – best, and she’s ready to find Mr. Right. Or, Mr. Nearly Right. No one’s perfect…which she has learned the hard (but hilarious) way.