Why You Need To Stop Lurking Your Ex
Your ex is your dream girl. She’s beautiful and complex and cruel to you. She made you spend half a million dollars on her in the few months that you dated. The whole time, you were never allowed to touch her, talk to her, even breathe in the same room as her, without her permission. You loved every second of being with her. You never had to make any decisions—you got to embrace your true state, a shell of a man, and take the back seat when it was crunch time. Everything down to how much you spent at Starbucks was pre-calculated and pre-approved, just the way you like it. No more needing to stress about your caffeine habit when she controlled your intake. While you had your simplest habits scrutinized, your ex treated shopping like a competitive sport. She never spent her own money, and your credit cards stayed in her possession at all times, for safety. Life was good.
And then it wasn’t. She didn’t even bother breaking up with you, she just ghosted you. She owns six apartment buildings so you couldn’t even show up at her doorstep and embarrass yourself in front of her and the rest of the world by begging for her back. She was gone.
Thoughts of her were intrusive. You couldn’t go a single day without checking her Instagram. You didn’t even want to be honest with yourself about how many times you searched her name in a day. You would look at the same 105 posts she had up. You especially loved the bikini pics, you know, the ones she never wore for you. You screenshot those just in case she blocks you.
You know she doesn’t post ever apart from the occasional story, and yet you can’t stop checking her profile any chance you get online. You comb through her comments, her tagged photos, her friends’ profiles, her sister’s Facebook. Anything you can do to get a little bit of her.
It hits you like a wall of bricks when you’re scrolling through her sister’s Instagram in the middle of the night. She hasn’t been posting, but her sister is also newly single and going through this thing where she needs to post a video of every person she interacts with as some form of personal validation and proof that people like spending time with her (no). You think she’s vapid and annoying but her need for views is in your favor because your ex makes the occasional appearance on her IG live. They’re at that new club that just opened up, you know, the one she laughed at you about when you said you wanted to go with her. She looks so good in the new Cult Gaia dress you pre-ordered for her months ago. How could you not obsess over her? That’s not the part that kills you, though. Her sister starts trying to film herself hawking her back back and forth in a scary rendition of what might be twerking but you can’t tell because it looks super painful, when you see a guy come up to your ex and grab her ass.
You lose your shit. For the next four hours you replay the clip of your ex you have now screen recorded. The sister’s attempts at back injury, ass grab. Back injury, ass grab. You’ve even figured out a way to watch it all in slow motion. The guy isn’t even that hot, you tell yourself. He’s probably not even that rich, you assure yourself. His dick probably isn’t that huge, you try to comfort yourself. You study his big veiny hand palmed around her asscheek in the dress you paid for. Days pass before you can sleep again. You turn into a weak(er) simp loser who hasn’t showered in a week, and you can’t even tell anyone why because that would mean having to admit you were lurking your ex. They can never know how much you worship her, they can never know that checking her account is basically your religion. They can never know the hours you spent lurking her online footprint like the depraved, degenerate loser you are. Why do the baddest girls post the least? You don’t have the answer, but what you do have is a grainy, two second video of her ass getting clapped by a better, more superior man.
