But our resident sex and relationship columnist is here to show you how.
Welcome to The Coveteur’s series about sex and dating, brought to you with the expertise and humor of our friend Lindsay, of the laughably addictive Tumblr, Tinder in Brooklyn. In her own very DGAF way, she’ll be breaking down the good, the bad and the downright bizarre that is, well, dating in the time of Tinder (and all that other shit we Gen X, Y and Z-ers have to deal with). Check back often, because you know there’s lots to discuss.
I’m going to tell you all a cautionary tale. It involves the most ridiculous breakup of all time. Also involved? My younger, idiot self. I had better skin, horrible eyebrows, and a light in my eyes that had yet to be extinguished by the immeasurable suffering that is a law school education.
[* Takes twenty minute break from writing to have panic attack and cry*]
Anyway. My boyfriend at the time and I had planned a big trip after graduating college. We booked a year’s worth of plane tickets across Asia together. Then we proceeded to break up. IN FIFTEEN.FUCKING.COUNTRIES.
Yup. I am quite certain we hold the world record for Most Geographically Extensive Breakup ever. The separation finally stuck in Hong Kong, when we both, rather dramatically, escaped to separate continents. I bought a train ticket to China. He bought a plane ticket to New York. And that was that.
Kind of. I mean… I was still in China unfuckingsupervised. I was also outrageously messed up in more ways than you could possibly imagine. But at least I was single! I celebrated my freedom by running around Beijing getting shit-house-hammered on rice wine, posing for pictures with other people’s babies, and buying up every tube of Asian mascara I could get my hands on. As one does. (Side note: they make some next-level eyelash shit over there. Fiberwig changed my life, y’all.)
What wasn’t I doing? Instagramming. And for that, I thank my lucky fucking stars.
During the no-good-very-bad breakup, I had limited access to the Internet. When I did finally go online, things got weird: I sent borderline insane emails containing ALL MY FEELINGS to friends back home; I cried in Internet cafes while using Skype as strangers looked on with a mix of fear and concern; I changed my Facebook profile picture to a topless picture of Heidi Klum giving someone the finger. (Yes. I know. I am a master in the art of subtlety… feel free to subscribe to my newsletter.) But beyond a few select outbursts, the Internet remains mercifully free from any trace of our international-world-tour-of-breakup-fuckery.
No doubt, that if I’d had an iPhone, things would have panned out differently. I envision drunk Facebook status updates (FUCK YOU BEN, I’M IN VIETNAM!), followed by enlightened Instagram posts showing just how centered and together I was: Here I am doing yoga on a beach! #wanderlust. There would probably be a few green juice posts as well: #Cleansing today, both my body AND my soul! #newbeginnings!
Watching someone go through heartbreak in the age of Instagram, Twitter, Tinder and beyond is truly a hideous sight to behold. Some bitches post so many sad song lyrics online that even I’m starting to miss their ex. Which is weird. I mean, certain things should just be kept private, you guys! (On a completely unrelated note—my article on That Time I Went to Blowjob Class can be accessed here...)
Seriously though. Over the last few years, I have had the distinct privilege of watching my friends document their relationship-implosions online, without ever having had the option to do the same. (Shockingly, I’ve been single for, like, five years. I know, I know, please try to wrap your head around this complete fucking mystery….)
Here is what I’ve learned: Using social media in the aftermath of a breakup is more than just a bad call, it’s the modern equivalent of strapping yourself onto a psychotic horse and riding it DIRECTLY into a burning barn. It is a dangerously stupid endeavour, to say the least.
New Rule: If you must go on social media after a breakup, please please please don’t use it to make yourself look like a tool. Instead of letting the Internet enable your heartbroken, stalkerish tendencies, let’s use this terrible magic for good! So STOP posting emo quotes on Instagram, get thy ass the hell off Facebook, and consider using your Internet abilities to calm your crazy as per the following:
Let me guess. Despite having 500 other contacts in your phone, drunk, you only want to text your ex. If this sounds familiar, I have some delightful news: there’s an app for that! Drunk Mode allows you to block yourself from contacting your ex—and anyone else that sends you flying into the shame-hangover zone. Just activate it well before you enter Dina Lohan-territory, and consider yourself safe for the evening.
[One caveat: I know someone who got once got so drunk that, when this app prevented her from calling her ex, she decided to outsmart the system by drunk dialling his mother. Can. You. IMAGINE? If you are capable of pulling such a move, check yourself… into therapy. Immediately.]
As Elizabeth Taylor (or, possibly, just some bitch on Pinterest) once said, “Pour yourself a drink, put on some red lipstick, and pull yourself together!” That is certainly good advice. But sometimes, when you’re sad, that can be hard to manage. With the Beautified app, you can pay someone else to pull yourself together for you! Genius, right? Beautified has compiled a list of New York-based hair stylists, makeup artists and vajazzlers (ok, still waiting on the vajazzlers….) and allows you to book last-minute appointments with them online. Cheers to being lazy AND looking like a human again!
Seamless really should be at the top of the list. Yes, you know exactly what the fuck this app does is, but the value of having its services at your disposal during a breakup simply cannot be overstated. You can literally summon a stranger to make and deliver food directly to your emo-bedroom cave of sadness! So go ahead. Eat your feelings!!! This, friends, is why the Internet exists. It is a beautiful thing, indeed.
Living in New York, I think this website is absolutely genius. Avoid Humans isn’t just for broken-hearted souls; the perpetually angry and easily irritated among us (i.e. yours truly) can benefit as well! Basically, Avoid Humans does exactly what the name suggests: using data gathered from Instagram and FourSquare, it lets you know which places nearby are most devoid of people, so you can plan your activities accordingly. Because, let’s be honest, ugly crying is much more therapeutic without witnesses.
Sometimes, you just need to get the FUCK out of Dodge. Skyscanner lets you pick a day, a destination (Pro-Tip: select ‘Anywhere’ and see what happens) and promptly finds you the most freakishly cheap flights on the market. So go on, live a little! Get out of your comfort zone! Shop at the exact same chain stores you always shop in but in a different city! It’s hashtag wanderlust season, motherfuckers!
Oh yes, I saved the best for last. Because I appreciate you bitches who actually make it all the way through my ...um… “articles.” In gratitude, I bestow on you this gift: an app called Whack-a-Cage! Whack-A-Cage is like whack-a-mole, but instead of murdering rodents, you get to beat up various forms of Nicholas Cage instead. AMAZING, RIGHT? It is hilarious and perfect and just might be the greatest app ever invented. Is it productive in any way whatsoever? Nope. Is it unnecessarily violent and just a tad bit creepy? ABSOLUTELY! But it IS good for a laugh—and much more fun than stalking your ex online.
Happy Rebounding, Bitches!