How to supplemental : All's fair in Love and the Internet.

All's fair in Love and the Internet.

When the send button becomes your enemy...

In the 21st century, dating is a contact sport played on tiny screens. Between the latest slang, (What ever skibbidy rizz means.) the newest apps, and the ever-shifting rules, it’s a full-time job just to keep up.

On a dark and dreary "day before school" night, my friend and I found ourselves on an "online chat/date site"—it could really do both ;P—where the names were fake, the laughs were real, and the pictures of penis runneth over.

Being passed the phone so my friend could take her portion of the hourly bathroom break, I picked up where she left off with a guy named Taylor. He was funny, lived close by I think, and was mostly ugly but also kind of cute. Probably a sign I should’ve closed the app and gone to bed, but you live and you learn.

He was nice. Okay-looking. And after a few more messages, I realized I’d made a mistake...

Shit, I caught feelings.

—Which, as any dating girl knows, is the second worst thing you can catch aside from an STD, lest you be burned two different ways. I stayed up way past my bedtime, trading witty banter and pouring my soul out to the happy ending I was sure I was going to star in.

Then I took a two-week "phone cleanse." It was a silly, self-imposed social experiment, but if 'Big' can put up with taking a big-mac to the face, he can wait. After a fortnight of night sweats and neck-scratching and finally catching up on sleep, I re-entered society as a non-phone-addicted girl and saw a new text from him. I replied and waited for three days and crazy nights. No response. Leaving me to come to the conclusion that obviously, his personal actions were my fault.

So, thinking I’d let Prince Charming ride into the sunset without me, I released a blood-curdling sigh into my pillow. It was so terrible that when I lifted my head, there were imprints left behind, which was kind of gross.

I wallowed, telling my old friends, my new friends, and anyone who would listen how he was “such a catch.”

Then, sick of my sulking and tired of my ranting, a girlfriend of mine mentioned Google Image Search. I was determined to find the guy I’d supposedly lost, to see his face one last time. All of that… to find the exact same image on Pinterest.

It tore me in two. One half wished I'd watched that three-season marathon of Catfish when I had the chance, and the other half wondered how I could be stupid enough to believe everything a seemingly cute boy said. I thought, if I can’t trust my own judgment to spot a liar, how can I trust anything?

And I couldn’t help but wonder:

If all’s fair in love and the internet… did I fuck up after the first click?

- G.R.

CREDIT: TBD.