Okay fine. I get it. You never want to share our Facebook memories, even when Facebook puts them right in your face – but I hope you know that if you’re not going to remind the internet of all the great times, hard struggles, and incredible captions we shared together, then I fucking will.
Chrissy, I really thought our spring break trip was one for the ages. This picture (which I KNOW IS ON YOUR SCREEN WHEN YOU OPEN FACEBOOK TOO) was definitely the highlight of our trip. The sun is setting behind us, we’re holding our mai tais, and we finally got the angles right so my stomach looks super flat and my boobs look super big. This would be a great opportunity to remind our friends and grandparents of our wonderful, relaxing girls trip with a caption like, “Ugh, wish we could be back there – but every day is a beach trip with my best friend <3.” But if you’re not going to reaffirm the strength of our relationship by channeling vacay nostalgia, then fine: I guess the burden falls to me.
And ATTN: Members of my HS Volunteer Club – are really NONE of you going to share this pic of us at the food bank together? We all look so young, full of life, and really spiritually fulfilled by sorting canned goods for the hungry. McKenna I know for a FACT that you worked at a food bank in college and now do marketing for a non-profit and honestly I cannot believe that you’re not jumping on this opportunity to thank “this incredible group of people who started me on my journey of service” where my boobs also look super great. But if you’re not going to look fondly back on school-mandated trips of altruism that we all definitely got drunk after, then I’ll fall on yet another sword of generosity and share this one for all of Facebook to see…again.
Hello? Is anybody even on Facebook today?
Mom. Not gonna lie, this screenshot of the text conversation where I told you that I got the internship at Condé Nast is a shareable moment that you have seemingly avoided sharing this entire day. You were once “so proud of my baby girl that I could just bust my buttons!” and now, just silence. But it’s fine, I suppose. If you’re not going to remind Facebook about the swelling pride you felt for your daughter, I will, as I always have done, do what is necessary and right and passive-aggressively share it on your behalf.
And Brian: If, at 4pm on this memory-filled day, you don’t still feel like “this girl, this city, and magic nights like this make it all worth it,” then maybe that’s something we need to talk about tonight. If you’re not willing to share our romantic evening along the Chicago skyline with the world to reaffirm their faith in our love, then I fucking will. And then I will fucking break up with you,
Facebook doesn’t show us memories so we can smile softly to ourselves and go on about our day. Memories are supposed to keep us connected to what was and is important in our lives. But you know what – if no one else will hit share on that selfie of the entire sophomore class at Six Flags is worth reliving even though that was the day that Tara and Kyle finally broke up for good – then I guess it’s up to me, as always.
