“We have to post this one,” Alex said with a smile. “Hashtagdefinitelyno filter.”
“Wait!” I stopped him. “No one will believe it’s real if we do. I mean . . .” I swallowed. “It kind of looks like we’re . . .in love, or something like that. It’s too much too soon.”
Alex looked back at the picture again. His demeanor changed somewhat as he inspected it quietly and thoughtfully. In the short time I’d known him, I’d gathered that he was a great thinker. I could see that he thought everything through. He obviously had a brilliant mind, I mean, he was a doctor after all. And then he started nodding, slowly.
“You’re right, we’ll save it for later.” His finger swished over the screen again, until he came to the shot of me free-falling into the water. “This one.” He held the phone up to me.
I laughed. It was a great action shot. I was falling, still clutching onto my cocktail, legs flapping, skirt billowing, genuinely laughing. Alex was also laughing while he reached a hand out to grab me.
“That’s a good one,” I said. We both began walking back to our table on the beach. I was wet, and before I could do anything about it, Alex ran off towards the pool area and grabbed a big towel. He sprinted back and wrapped it around my shoulders. The kind gesture caught me off guard. He barely knew me and yet he was rushing around getting me towels and fixing my knees. He was a genuinely nice guy. If you had to describe Alex to anyone, the first thing you’d say was, “He’s such a nice guy.” God, his girlfriend must have been mad to let him slip through her fingers. But what’s that saying about nice guys always finishing last? Maybe he wastoonice.
We sat back down, ordered another two pink cocktails, and Alex sent the photo to me.
“Where should we post this?” I asked.
“Mmmmm . . .” He lifted a finger to his lips. I smiled. He always seemed to put something to his lips when thinking. “Definitely Instagram, maybe Facebook too, or is that overkill?”
“It would be overkill if we changed it to our profile picture on Facebook,” I offered after some careful consideration. We were really taking this very seriously. Social media was no laughing matter, and defriending someone these days was as brutal as getting a divorce.
“Good point. But we agree to both Instagram and Facebook?” He looked up at me and raised a questioning eyebrow.
I nodded. “We agree.”
I went to my Instagram account and opened it, going straight to my profile in case my news feed had pictures I didn’t want to see. I pulled the picture up and looked at it.
“What filter are you using?” Alex looked up from his phone.
“Hashtag no filter,” I said with a smile as I typed that.
“Hashtag happiness?” he asked.
I nodded. “Hashtag beach vibes.”
“Hashtag happy hour,” Alex offered; we were both nodding and typing.
“Hashtag blessed!” I proclaimed, typing away with a smile, even though hashtag blessed was one of the most nauseating hashtags that had ever been invented. In fact, hashtags in general gave me a sense of uneasy cringe. But fuck it, I was going to hashtag the hell out of this.
“Hashtag happy life?” He stopped typing and looked at me.
We both burst out laughing at the same time. To be honest, as much as this was all truly ridiculous, because it was, I was having more fun than I’d had in a while. Maybe this break was exactly what I needed?
“And post it on five, four, three, two . . .” Alex started counting down and when he reached one, I pressed the post button and then started giggling uncontrollably. There was something so deliciously silly about this whole thing, and even if it didn’t have the desired effect—throwing the middle finger to our exes (not that Matt was technically my ex; well, I’d been in a relationship with him, even though he hadn’t with me)—I didn’t quite care at this stage. Three cocktails in, some sand and sun and someone to laugh with, I was starting to feel remarkably okay! I don’t think I had felt this okay in a very long time.
But my merriment stopped when Alex suggested we unfollow and unfriend them now. It felt like someone suddenly punched me in the gut. If I unfriended him and unfollowed him, I could no longer look through his photos. Something I did late at night when I felt like torturing myself. In those moments, I always knew I shouldn’t be looking, because the results were always the same—it inevitably made me feel like crap. Like a loser stalker. But as much as I told myself not to look, I always landed up doing it, like slowing down at the scene of an accident.
“Can I look through his pictures, one last time?” I asked, feeling the immense gravity of the situation.
“We’ll do it together.” Alex pulled his chair over to my side of the table. We sat next to each other in total silence, shoulders touching, each one flipping through our Instagram accounts. Matt’s Instagram was peppered with pictures of him and Sam, there was the odd one of me and him, but mostly there were images of him and Sam that made them look like the power couple of the year. Once Instagram was complete, we went to Facebook and did the same thing. When we’d both finished we looked up at each other and sighed at the same time. The mood had changed, it wasn’t so happy anymore.
“Here.” Alex handed me his phone. “You do it for me.”
I nodded and did the same, handing Alex my phone. We sat and looked at each other for a while, as if communicating silently. We didn’t need words in this moment. We were both on the exact same page and it felt great to finally have someone to talk to, or simply sit in silence with, that understood. Then we both nodded and did it. Cutting them out of our social media lives, which in this day and age is like severing a limb. I just hoped I wouldn’t now have a phantom limb that would constantly itch, but that I would never be able to scratch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
We must have sat in silence for ten minutes after our mass social media murder. I knew it would be hard, but I hadn’t anticipated it being this hard. The sun had set, and the colorful twinkling lights of the beach bar came on. Couples started making their way there and taking seats. I looked over, and our friendly bartender from the other night waved at us. I waved back at him. He smiled at me and held up a basket of what looked like bar snacks and put them down. My stomach rumbled at the sight of the snacks. God, I was hungry.
I looked back at Alex, who’d obviously seen the whole thing play out too. “I’m starving too,” he said and walked over to the bar. I followed him and we reassumed our usual spot.
