Like any other woman, I lived to stalk my middle school rival on Instagram. I needed to know everything about her, even though I hate her more than I’ve ever hated anyone and haven’t seen her in 15 years. I knew that she was on the keto diet and that she had to put her cocker spaniel, Larry, to sleep six months ago. I would get in bed at night and look at her pictures of the mediocre lake she lives near and think about the time she pantsed me in front of Michael Jefferson while we were playing soccer in the 7th grade. She is the most uninteresting person I’ve ever met and it would not matter to me if she was dead, but I absolutely needed her content every day for me to truly thrive.
But my world came crashing to a halt on April 12th when I realized that my Jessica made her Instagram private seven days before her wedding. I immediately felt sick. Why would she do this to me? I’ve been there for years, secretly looking at photos of her feet in the sand while she visited her parents in Tampa. It was finally time for my special day. The day I had dreamed about since I was a little girl. The day I could look at her wedding hashtag (#MrandMrsSmith) and shit on every single detail, from the mediocre chicken dish to the black-and-white pictures of her gazing out the window in the bridal suite. And yeah, that’s right, they both have the last name Smith. In other words, how could they do this to me??
Jessica convinced the other girls in my 8th grade class that my middle name was Shamu and because of that, I deserved to see that, on her wedding day, she used Mason jars as glasses like it’s 2012. Unfortunately, that just wasn’t an option anymore. She suddenly wanted privacy and took my big day away from me with the click of a button.
I know what you’re thinking and yes I created a fake account to see if she would let me in. She didn’t. What could I possibly have done to deserve this??
Now that months have passed by, I have started to come to terms with the fact that I may never see her handmade calligraphy chalkboard with a bible verse on it or a boomerang of her new husband twirling her. At least not until she posts some #TBTs on Facebook. As much as this breaks my heart, I knew I had to move on. I needed to focus on my own life and not on some boring girl in Ohio just to make me feel better about myself. Besides, I would rather peel off all my skin than send her a follow request.
