She Deleted Their Four-Year Relationship in 5 Minutes

A short rant about disposable love.

“You haven’t heard?” my friend asked over the phone, taking a deep drag of her cigarette. Considering I was living on the other side of the world and I hadn’t spoken to either of them in eight years, it was safe to say — I hadn’t heard. “Pst,” she sneered, holding for dramatic pause.

“What? What happened?” I asked nervously. Judging by the tone of her voice, one of them must have died in a freak car accident.

“They broke up,” she finally exhaled. “She cheated on him, dude.”

Ah, yep. Of course. Come to think of it, I did suspect something. It had been far too long since I scrolled past a selfie of them kissing on the beach or a professional photo of them casually walking their dog in the park.

Why are the most obnoxiously outright and in-your-face couples on social media usually the most dysfunctional in real life?

It’s like they've got something to prove. As if they’re so insecure about their instability, rather than seeking therapy or working it out, they post a “happy” photo and then go to bed in separate rooms. If my 700 Facebook Friends think our relationship is prospering, it must be. Right??

Wrong.

Have you ever read one of those cringe-worthy appreciation posts that one partner writes to another on Facebook? If so, I bet the following two things crossed your mind.

1. Aw, cute. I wish someone would write something sweet like that on my Facebook page. But wait…
2. Don’t they live together??

Why not just yell into the other room to confess your apparently irrepressible love? Does the world of Facebook need to lay witness to this type of sick and twisted behavior? Something’s up. It’s gotta be! There’s a reason why telling a person you love them — in person — isn’t enough. There must be some ulterior motive when you feel inclined to share that love with the internet.

And even if they don’t live together or they’re in a long-distance relationship, haven’t they heard of texting? Or email? Or christ, if you want to be romantic, write a damn letter.

Maybe I’m a cynic and, if so, someone please debunk my theory. Do some couples seek attention and affirmation of their relationship to conceal what’s really going on behind the scenes? I’m not talking about a reasonable amount of photos over the years. Love is beautiful. You’re happy. You’re proud. I get it and I support you. But some people just overdo it, man.

I remember the old photo albums my grandmother kept tucked away in her bedroom drawer. Anytime she pulled one out, she did so with such patience and care that I’d wonder to myself, how many people have seen these?

An entire trip abroad could have been documented in a single photo. But if they weren’t taking a thousand photos, editing them in VSCO, and then posting them and waiting for people to respond, what the hell were they doing on vacation? They were living. Experiencing. Watching sunsets without adding them to an Instagram story. Loving one another. Every photo held a place in my grandmother’s heart. She would smile and sigh, as she gently turned each page.

She wasn’t boasting. There wasn’t any ego in it. Just sincere, unadulterated nostalgia.

And I worry that so many people are missing the point, aggressively posting on social media and then staring at their phones, awaiting likes, as their waiter waits for them to notice him. I don’t know why people go out to eat together, or at all when they just sit there on their phones.

And on the other hand, there’s the obsessive PDA, which is awkward enough in public but at least we can turn our heads. Online, it’s written in cyber ink. It’s permanent… or is it?

Later that night, while scrolling Instagram, I became curious. I wanted to see how long it was since X & Z had gone silent. But when I checked X’s Instagram, I was shocked. I scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, and couldn’t believe what I found.

There was not a single photo of them together. Four years together, deleted. It was like their relationship never even existed.

Z’s face used to liter the feed. Now, he didn’t make a single appearance. I felt like I was watching an episode of True Crime, Vanished. And that made me sad. Really sad. Not just for Z for getting cheated on and having to start his life over after he had gotten down on one knee, but for X too.

She was clearly coping with the guilt of what she had done, and deleted any trace of Z in an attempt to forget about her infidelity… or better yet, make her followers forget they had ever been in a happy, loving relationship to begin with. If it never existed, what’s there to feel bad about?

I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’ve deleted photos to move on from certain chapters in my past. Just a couple of weeks ago, I deleted 90% of my Instagram feed so that I can utilize the platform in a more meaningful way.

But we live in an era where we can erase people with the click of a button. It’s not even a button. It’s the tap of a screen. DELETE is all you need.

We are the product of Cancel Culture. Whether it’s Unsubscribing, a heedless swipe left, or a single B L O C K…

we no longer have to explain ourselves or our feelings, which is why we often feel nothing at all.

We don’t have to apologize and we shouldn’t expect apologies. But, the most destructive form of closure is never getting any. While we don’t like to admit it, our passive-aggressive behavior hurts more than the other person. It affects our mental health too. Why do you think we’re all riddled with anxiety? Why do you think we have such low self-esteem?

When we simply delete someone from our lives, we neglect to utilize the single trait that separates us from animals — our ability to reason and use complex language. We were born with brains that can attach words to emotions, to reflect and solve difficult problems. And yet here we are, like cavemen, bashing our phones with our primitive thumbs.

Still, we can’t stop ourselves from worrying about running into our ex in public. We can’t curb the chances of an old relative on Christmas asking, “So honey, where’s Z?” And we definitely can’t prevent the flashbacks that conjure themselves whenever we visit the old café of our first date, or whenever we hear the Fleetwood Mac song that was playing on the radio during our first kiss.

It’s no wonder we find it so hard to connect. It’s no wonder our exes haunt us in our dreams. You can delete a photograph but you can’t delete a memory, which means it’s up to you to set the record right, to lay a lover to rest.

I know it’s hard. I know it’s scary. And I’m sorry, but you’ll have to use your words. I promise you’ll feel better once you do.

Because what your phone doesn’t show you is the person on the other side. And that person has thoughts, and emotions, and insecurities, and an inclination to feel sad. To be made to feel sad by you. As much as you don’t want to believe it, you possess that power.

Now, what are you going to do with it?