Usually do not inquire me personally as to why. But while i seated on my room floors, ears ringing for the echoes regarding my now-ex-boyfriend’s shaky sound telling me personally he wished to crack anything away from, We lower my personal mobile and, after on time purging they of all the proof of my defunct matchmaking, opened TikTok.
Immediately the For You Page, blissfully unaware of what had just happened, served me with a video of two adorable gays filming an adorable skit for the adorable couples page. Clearly, despite the understood omniscience, TikTok’s algorithm had not been listening in on my calls, nor had it been reading my texts.
When I next braved the app three weeks later, nothing had changed. There they were, taunting me again: date memes, couples’ skits, soppy compilations of Ian and Mickey out-of Shameless. The FYP had been there for me in the darkest depths of the pandemic, but now it had forsaken me; left adrift and single in the depressing sea of #relationship TikTok. Well, I thought, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions? Up until a few weeks prior I’d been in a (seemingly) happy relationship, so videos that spoke to that experience were exactly the sort of stuff I’d eagerly engaged with.