The Misadventures of Instagram
Gloomy Friday mornings are the worse. As if getting up to go to work every morning wasn't a struggle, I had the weather fighting against me too. I could have called in and had a three day weekend, but it was only one day. I could do it. Frustrated that I had to break up with my bed, I got up, showered, dressed, and reluctantly headed to work. On the subway platform I checked my emails and waited for the J train. Gentrification had undoubtedly changed the aesthetic of my fellow commuters from when I first moved to Bedstuy two years ago. When the train finally arrived, I secretly prayed that I'd get a seat. Finding an open one during morning rush hour is like playing Russian Roulette. The people left standing lose. Unless of course they prefer it that way.
The guy who got on in front of me took the last seat. Shoot! I felt like reading that morning and I hated trying to balance a book in one hand and hold on to the pole for dear life with the other. Just as I secretly mugged everyone for sitting, a lady stood to get off at the next stop. Bingo! I sat down next to the guy who got on in front of me and pulled out my book. The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl was getting good. Issa Rae had just popped up over to her father's house only to discover her Dad's new girlfriend shortly after her parents' divorce. Fully engrossed in the story, I couldn't help but notice the guy next to me leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees scrolling through Instagram.
I paused for a few seconds. Normally I hated when the person seated next to me was caught being nosey with their eyes perusing my phone screen, but I couldn't help it. My inner CSI screen camera came up as I checked him out. I started from his shoes and worked my way up. He was wearing a pair of black canvas high top Dr. Martens, black skinny jeans (heavy on the skinny), a black t-shirt, an army green hooded jacket, a tan five-panel Obey hat, and gauges plugged in his ear. From quick judgment it was safe to say that he most likely had Young Thug and Rich Homie Quan somewhere on a playlist.
My eyes zoomed back to the phone screen. He was roaming through some girls' page. I didn't catch a name, but I saw the usual Model, Host, Actress in the bio. That is usually code fro Instagram celebrity with no real career. I rolled my eyes and refocused my attention back to Issa and her humorous story-telling. The book was an easy read and by this time I was deeply invested. Some pages I could have sworn Issa was telling my story instead of hers. In my peripheral I could see the guys' fingers double-tapping away. He was that kind. You know, the guy that likes all your pictures, hoping that you'd click on his page and find him attractive too, follow him back, then it was only a matter of time before he DM's you. Oh the politics of the 'Gram.
A couple of seconds later, he jumped so hard that it scared me. More like a chain reaction. Now I have an attitude, he's jumpy and a creep. What a combination. I looked over to see what was going on and his eyes were locked on one of her pictures. When I glanced harder I saw that it was a before and after makeup shot of his lady of the hour. On the left her face was a playground for bumps, blackheads, and blemishes. I'm talking teenage-oh-my-God-I-wish-I-was-invisible acne. On the right, she was a complexion lighter and her face was as smooth as a baby's bottom. Contouring and photoshop at it's finest.
He quickly tapped the top of the screen, unfollowed her, double tapped the home button and resumed playing some cyber game on his phone. I couldn't help but laugh. All within a matter of minutes he liked her, became infatuated with her, found out she wasn't what he thought she was, then quickly detached himself from her. That was some range of emotions in such a short time. I guess we're becoming the people society is grooming us to be. I laughed and turned my attention back to Issa. At least she was taking me on a journey. I didn't know if her story would end up where I wanted it to, but at least it would take me longer to get there. That's more than I could say for buddy next to me.
We both stood up and got off the train at the next stop. I wondered what he felt about what he'd just discovered, or was she one of the many that would go through the process of approval for the day. In her recent cover story interview with New York Magazine, Nicki Minaj talked about her friend editing swat off their faces in a club picture before posting it to Instagram. Who has that kind of time? Either way, I'd been warned; believe none of what you hear, absolutely none of what you see, especially if it's on the 'Gram.
