instagram intimacy

on on-line-lo-ve

through the blue-light screen that gives you a migraine, you can almost feel your palms; clammy, grasping at each other, the combined sweat coalescing into a stream.

this online love may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever experienced. the uncertainty. the tension. the imagination. the expedited reply, thanks to high-speed wifi. the intangibility of a love confession through instagram dm. the muffled gruffness of a voice message. the liking of a reel, repost of a tiktok so specific it MUST be about you, it HAS to be about you.

stalking a new person just to realise they’re you in a different font. you, just a few years older. you, in a different hemisphere. fate or precaution? friend or lover? you get to make that decision— follow, dm, block, ghost, report. the opportunities are endless.

you gauge the circumstances of their entire life through 4 tagged posts in which they’re stood next to an army of girls, or their following list littered with european names like ‘lily’ and ‘sofia’ and any name that could’ve been bestowed upon some scandinavian jewel of a woman. your stomach curls and clenches. they’re attracted to muscle mommies. you book a gym class. you’re jealous, and the two of you haven’t so much as exchanged a follow request yet.

the mystery is eliminated. you can find out everything from his political leanings to his parents marital status from a mere three minutes of scrolling. then comes the shame, after you accidentally like his sisters’ three year anniversary post with her boyfriend. you curse at yourself in the mirror and crawl down the walls of the bathroom, asking why why WHY it always ends up this way.

because on-line-lo-ve is a peculiar situation. it’s too much knowledge, too much awareness, somehow still only scratching the surface. the person you thought was perfect for you turns out to be a pervert. the person you judged based on their interests understands you in a way no one else does.

still, when your eyes are popping out of their sockets, looking at a profile picture that has remained unchanged since october of 2022, sometimes the figure’s eyes divert away from the city landscape behind them and zeroes in on your bloodshot eyeballs. sometimes, it’s almost like they’re doing the same thing, refreshing your page to see the numbers go up and down.

in our insanity, we embrace. our intimacy is the lack thereof completely.