INSTA-STALK

Hello, I’d Like You to Follow Me Back

Since we’re being honest with each other, it’s rude of you

Salutations! Do you have room for one more at your table? Wait, you don’t recognize me? Ouch! Hey, this is @SriniTheProper_Gentleman from Twitter. I’m the gentleman who pretty regularly retweets your every tweet, including your thirst traps and workout pictures you pretty regularly post. Still don’t recognize me?

Let me wear sunglasses now exactly the way I wear them in my Twitter profile picture — with the exact amount of a charming smile. You will recognize me. How about now? I still don’t ring a bell?

That’s weird. But I know why. You don’t follow me back on Twitter. If you did, at least when I replied to the tweet of your birthday selfie, “Happy birthday, Emily babe. Please follow me back. You’re missing out on all my hilarious tweets. THANKS!”

I guess you genuinely missed my thoughtful reply. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because I remember seeing that tweet had so many replies — 109 replies, to be precise. Pathetic guys, amirite?

I’m an ardent fan of your tweets. I’ve turned my notifications on for all your tweets, replies, and your retweets. I love how you only like and retweet tweets that have gone viral. That says a lot about you. Only great things. Unpopular opinions are unpopular for a reason, Emi girl.

My all-time favorite tweet of yours? Oh, it’s incredibly tough to pick. But if I have to, it would be this — “I’m sorry for never having had a threesome. And you know what? I never could. Sue me!” I can so relate to that. It’s so profound yet hilarious. Imagine if someone actually sues you for that hahaha.

What do I do for a living? Oh, you didn’t ask? You were just ordering a French baguette from the waiter? Let me tell you anyway. I’m a stalker. I’m kidding. Only if that paid me money.

I’m a writer. I research online about topics nobody has ever written about and I write those. In a way, I am a stalker. I do stalk all the Google results of the topics I research about.

Do I live in Paris? Oh, no, darling. I’m coming from India, all the way to meet you IRL. Of course I saw your tweet about your flight ticket. I did not like and retweet that because I wanted to surprise you by showing up here.

That was so subtle of me! I know. You should’ve suspected I was definitely up to something. You should see your face now. It’s totally worth it.

Fun fact? I follow you on Instagram, too. I posted a story on Instagram of the picture I took of Paris City when I was up in the air. My caption? “Eiffel Tower, I’m WAY taller than you. Who’s laughing now?” I bet you didn’t see that.

Because, again, you don’t follow me back. You see, you accepted my follow request. You didn’t follow me back. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt because 99% of the girls I know make this rookie mistake.

If you click only once on my follow request, you’re only letting me follow you. You have to click twice to follow me back. Since we’re being honest with each other, it’s rude of you, sweetheart. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Blame it on the jetlag. I’m sure you’re itching to yell at me now, too. I’m telling you, it’s because of jetlag! After all, you took a flight from New York.

Why am I here to meet you? All I wanted to tell you was— I’d like you to follow me back. Both on Twitter and Instagram. Please and thank you!

We could have had all this conversation online if you had just followed me back. Unless — you deliberately didn’t follow me back because you knew I would come and meet you. If that’s the reason, how rude of me to call you rude. Now you can follow me back, though.

Now that we’ve had an opportunity to get to know each other properly, PLEASE ACCEPT my friend request on Facebook, which I sent you three years and seven months ago. That’s not funny anymore.

Also? Unblock me on LinkedIn. I’m so sorry for commenting “My lawyer will be sending you a notice for never having had a threesome. You better be checking your mailbox every day.” That was a joke. Sue ME hahaha. Yep, that was me.

Honestly, just between us besties, I wish they banned threesomes. How three people can be in the same room when they have sex without feeling awkward is beyond me. Having two people is awkward enough, amirite?

We should get Hot Chocolate and a French baguette together sometime again. Unless — you want me to surprise you again like this?

When do you think works for you? You’re busy the entire next month? What about the next year? Busy until 2096? That’s okay. When do you think works for you until the sun and/or moon explode?

When am I available? Follow me back. You’ll get all the exclusive updates. I added you to my Close friends group — as soon as I followed you.

I’m afraid I must leave now. My flight leaves in seventy-three minutes. I know you’re going to miss me. But — PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW ME BACK— HOME. I have an active life.

If you’re not following me back on any platform, let’s have a French baguette together in Paris. Before you take the flight, read the below so we can properly discuss these while drinking Hot Chocolate: