I think we can all agree that the internet has made it much, much harder to get over a breakup. Sure, you may have successfully erased his number from your phone, used his junior high football T-shirt as a rag, put away all your couple photos, ordered him never to call again, and cursed him to hell, but all of that effort is almost a waste considering he’s just a click of the mouse away.
After a while, though, watching how he’s growing in the midriff via Facebook photos loses its luster. You already know almost everything about him anyway, after all that time you spent/wasted. But what about his new girlfriend? She’s someone to be curious about.
I’m not proud of this—as I am not proud of oh-so-many things I’ve admitted to on The Frisky—but I am kind of obsessed with my ex’s new girlfriend. Not in an Alicia Silverstone in “The Crush” sort of way—I am not going to trap the chick in a shed and set a hive of bees on her to attack. That would be crazy! No, I just like to look at her Facebook page sometimes. It’s been set to private ever since the day I told my ex that I suspected he was lying to me about his relationship with her. He must have told her I was onto them, because suddenly I didn’t have as much access to this mysterious girl I’d only ever met twice, who slipped in and changed my life without me noticing.
I don’t blame her entirely, or even mostly. I blame him and, to a certain degree, I blame myself. But, I mean, I kind of blame her. We met! Twice! My ex made a point of telling me I would like her! (Red flag, FYI, ladies!) She seemed enthused to meet me! She seemed nice. Two weeks before my ex pulled the plug on our relationship—and coincidentally the day before the two of them went on a business trip together—she even had drinks with us and his mom. It never occurred to me that something was amiss.
I’ve never been the type to mistrust other women around a boyfriend. For one, it takes two to tango and, ultimately, his behavior is what I should be concerned with. But I also don’t believe that “she doesn’t owe” me anything nonsense. People owe other people kindness and consideration, whether they know them personally or not. When I finally found out that my suspicions were correct—that my ex had likely cheated on me with his female coworker, was dating her while he kept me on a string, and was lying about it—I was, of course, disgusted and furious at him. We have not spoken or exchanged words, even written ones, since. I don’t know that we ever will. But I was also so furious and disgusted by her because what she did was so incomprehensible to me.
Over the last nine months a lot of my anger towards both of them has faded as I’ve come to realize that our breakup was necessary, if poorly, poorly executed. The shock, betrayal, and devastation of it have had a lasting impact, as I’ve written about, um, a lot on this site. (I swear, someday I’ll stop, but the topics keep comin’!) But while most of my rage has dissipated, my curiosity has only grown. Who is this person who now occupies the place in my ex’s heart that used to belong to me? The other day I looked at her Facebook page for the first time in a little while. She had a new picture up, closely cropped so it was mostly her face, but I recognized the edge of the face of the person next to her in the original image. It was him. Smiling. Happy seeming. The same expression on countless photos I’ve now got tucked away in a box.
What is she like? She has a nose piercing. I used to have one, but my ex didn’t like it, so when the stud fell out I never replaced it. She’s younger than I am, so she’s probably not thinking about marriage and kids yet. But does she want to get married? Does she want kids? Does she know he told me that he doesn’t want them? Is that OK with her? Does she, did she, ever think about me? Has she met his parents, the people who almost became my own, in a way? Does she make him happy? How? Does she mind the things about him that I minded? Do they have nicknames for each other, like we did? And the biggest question of all—are they in love?
Unfortunately, the internet doesn’t have the answers.
Original by: Amelia McDonell-Parry