The impossibility of moving on in the 21st Century.

I love technology. My most treasured possessions are ordained with the beautiful apple with a bite missing from it. I am a junkie for high tech.


But, it has it’s downsides.

Moving on and getting over an ex is near enough impossible in 2013.

Are you guilty of the cheeky Facebook stalk? To see what he is doing, when, where and who with? I find myself staring at the photo of a beautiful girl that he has his arm around trying to work out if it’s a lets-pull-my-friend-in-close-for-a-photo moment or if it’s a we-are-madly-in-love-and-about-to-go-home-and-bang-each-others-brains-out type photo. You get the gist.


If it’s not Facebook it’s twitter. Okay, so his latest tweet read: “today is one of those days #hatemondays” WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Is his life crap at the minute, or amazing and the start of the week is comparatively bad compared to his amazing weekend? Why is today a bad day- girl issues? Huge workload? Skint? Overthinking.

That’s bad enough- lingering at the back of my mind is- oh god this is cringe- why/how am I on his Facebook for the seventh time today?! Then, if that wasn’t bad enough you start worrying, is he stalking me too? Maybe he isn’t and doesn’t care? What if he’s even worse than me? Etc etc. Today that answer was resolved as I logged onto my LinkedIn (yes, you read correctly) and discovered that he had viewed my profile. And I thought I was bad?!? My ex had stalked me on my professional account! Further, it had notified me-how embarrassing.


It’s a toughie though. There is too much temptation in the 21st century.

Then there are mobile phones. They’re dangerous, I tell you. Firstly, you can read old texts that are forever immortalised in black and white. All the “I love you” and “I miss you” texts. The in-jokes. The plans we made. It’s a killer. An emotional roller coaster not for the faint hearted.

That’s not where it ends. Worse still is waking up to discover that you sent a maze of meaningless letters strung together to form a drunken text. A drunken text where the only words slightly decipherable suggest that maybe you miss him, that you love him, or that you want to shag him. OH CRINGE.

There is the quandary of deleting his number only to become depressed at the fact that you know all eleven digits of it off by heart anyway. The temptation to block his number or to leave your phone in airplane mode so as not to receive anything- ofcourse when inevitably undone, an array of text messages and missed calls come piling in.


I crave the days when a singleton would merely bump into an ex on the street once a year and be done with it. They might wonder for a moment whether said ex has a new partner or if they’ve changed jobs etc etc but it would be a flitting consideration. Not a preamble to a huge social media stalking session.

It’s harder in 2013 I swear. We are the age of information. I want to keep tabs on all of my exs, to know who they’re dating, where they live and who their friends are. I want to know where they go on holiday, where they work and occasionally what they had for dinner. This is the beauty of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, even LinkedIn…and it’s downfall.

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