“So?” he asked me. “Is there anything else you want to say?”I was bursting with more: that he could thank his manic ex-girlfriend for gnawing off the root of another of his relationships; that he was an absolute coward for not breaking up with me in person; that he would gain great benefits from the use of Crest White Strips. But I bit down hard and said, “No.”
“Good. Well then take care.”
“WAIT!” I said. “You should know that right this second I’m heading to Facebook to change our relationship status.”
“But I’m driving!” His voice squeaked a little. “Anyway, like THAT really matters.”
Oh, I thought, it matters.
Breaking up on Facebook reminds me of a tabloid celebrity split—everyone and her mom (sometimes literally) can read on Monday morning’s Newsfeed that you are no longer part of the IaR (In a Relationship) circuit. I could practically hear my sorority sisters’ keyboards clicking: “We just met him at the Steelers game! She couldn’t keep him more than a few months?”
My ego cowered at the thought of their remonstrations: I should’ve known better than to get involved with someone younger; it must have been a vicious parting of ways, since I’d deleted him from my friend list; we’d changed our Facebook relationship status too soon.
Though 99 percent of our relationship existed in real time, one could write a book about our online relationship mistakes. For starters, he’d first asked me out on my Wall (“Hey, it was great to meet ya the other night, I’m so glad I found ya here! Let me know if ya still wanna go out on my motorcycle next weekend!”). We looked like Facebook fools. My heart pounded in my throat as I went to “Edit Profile” and clicked, “Single.”
When I checked back an hour later he had changed his profile picture, which had previously featured the two of us in happier times, to one in which he appeared shirtless.
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