He’s your fresh ex-fiance. Together one and a half years and two months out-of-relationship. It ended badly, he dumped you. So actually, I guess it ended badly specifically for you.
You’ve blocked him from every social media outlet except Instagram. He was never a big Instagrammer, he has like eight photos and most of them you uploaded. Two months later they still stand. (Yeah, you checked, let thou who hath not creeped on their own ex throw the first stone).
It’s a slow day at work, you check your “Follow” feed showing what the people you follow are commenting. See him comment fondly on some Asian rock climber chick’s photo. She replies that she “misses his face *wink*.”
Freak out. Miss his face freaking *WINK*?!? Are they touching faces? They most certainly must be touching faces if there is a wink.
Text everyone you’ve ever known. Tell them oh my god he. is. dating. via rambling enormous blue bubbles, ask if they know the identity of this girl with the cryptic “Chikamilli” screen name. Include a screenshot of the offending Instagram for judgement by the jury of your peers.
They express their lack of knowledge regarding any cute rock-climbing Asians, have no idea if he’s dating at all, that what you have sent them confirms absolutely nothing, and you’re in a really bad place right now. Accept several pity offers to coffee, hibachi, and one for pumpkin picking this weekend. Wonder if he will see your anticipated pumpkin picking Facebook pictures, and plan a cute cleavage-bearing pumpkin picking outfit in your head. Acknowledge to yourself that realistically you’ll end up wearing the hoodie with the thumb holes. Whatever.
Ponder your aforementioned overreaction. Although you feel justified, you make peace with it — he would inevitably date again. Brew a French press and realize you’re fine, and continue your work as a sane accountant. Shuffle the papers, add the numbers. Click click clack (that’s the sound of a calculator).
Three minutes pass.
The lingering image of them rock climbing together while he gleefully soaks in her Asian adorableness can’t be unthought, and peace you felt a mere 180 seconds ago rapidly unravels. Start ugly crying black mascara tears alone in your office and call your little sister (who is a sophomore in high school, you are literally a grown adult seeking the guidance and comfort of someone who watches Teen Nick) out of her American History II class to console you. She confirms he’s a jerk, and it’s a rebound…if anything at all. Ask her if she even knows what it means to rebound. She confirms she does know what that means and needs to go back to class and you should probably go back to work.
Make peace again. You are fine. You knew this would happen.
Consider if this is how his ex girlfriend before you felt when he dumped her. She is mildly in your social circle and you exchange something inbetween coy sneers and spoken hatred from time to time. But this is a new day, a new era, maybe now that he has dumped you both you can plot together like in John Tucker Must Die. You decide to friend her on Facebook.
Friend Request Pending.
Wonder if he’s always had a thing for Asians. His last two girlfriends had blonde hair and blue eyes. Maybe he’s lookin’ for some flava. Go back on Instagram and look through all 203 of sexy Asian climber’s photos. Sexy Asian climber with her husky. Sexy Asian climber climbing. Sexy Asian climber’s vegan pizza. You evaluate the comments and likes for more evidence of interest on the part of your ex. You find none. Realize, yeah, you’re totally crazy. This is fine. Fine fine fine, everything is fine.
Strongly regret Facebook friending his ex to the point of mild panic. Google “how to take back your Facebook friend request” faster than you’ve ever googled in your entire googling life. Guess what crazy lady? Can’t take back a friend request! Not possible!
Put your head on your desk. Stay like that for a while. Realize this is not going to get any better today, but there is always tomorrow. Buy a diet coke and macaron from the macaron man down the street, and thank God for tomorrow. (Well, fingers-crossed).