Heartbreak sucks, especially middle school heartbreak.
The first time I ever experienced what I thought was ‘heartbreak’ was in seventh grade, and I thought that I had found the girl for me. We were young and went to different schools, but still, things were going to work out because we went to the movies together nearly every weekend, and we even held hands.
Then, things didn’t work out.
I guess we thought differently because after a couple of months of movies, MSN Messenger conversations and phone calls, this girl destroyed my world. I remember that instant messenger conversation like it was yesterday. All it took was one quick message from her friend to let me know that she wanted to break up, and after that, my seventh-grade world crumbled. I’m not sure what it was that did it- maybe it was my sweaty palms, the fact my voice hadn’t changed yet or because I hadn’t had braces to fix my overlapping two front teeth, but whatever it was, we were done, and I felt like she’d ripped my beating heart out of my chest and ran over it with her friend’s golf cart.
You may be wondering what that experience drives a brokenhearted, seventh-grade boy to do. Well, let me tell you. It drove me to listen to Joe Nichols’ ‘Brokenheartsville’ from a fresh new copy of ‘Totally Country 4’ on CD. I remember sitting in my dark bedroom late at night trying to go to sleep while listening to that song on repeat because my 13-year-old self felt like it could empathize with the chorus so much:
I think the devil drives a Coup de Ville
I watched them drive away over the hill
Not against her will. I’ve got time to kill
Down in Brokenheartsville.
Obviously, there is nothing at all in that chorus for a seventh grader to really empathize with (mostly because seventh graders don’t drive and because the devil probably drives a Chevy, not a Coup de Ville), but I sure felt like the guy in that song at the time, and I imagined that Coup de Ville was the same golf cart that had run over my heart. The truth is, at the time, heartbreak feels like it’s the end of the world- especially when all you want is someone to like you; however, isn’t that what we always want? Want folks to like us.
Now a days anytime I feel like I’m unliked, society has created an absolutely magnificent invention to numb the pain: the like button.
Honestly, i’m not sure why it’s taken me this long to write about the significance of this sweet self-esteem boosting sidekick. After all, the like button has been on the social media scene since February of 2009 (!!), and it’s been there for me ever since. It’s like that friend you have that never lets you down- you know, the one that goes to Taco Bell with you at 2am even though you both know what it can do to your body. On the real, any time I’ve felt unliked, whether it was missing an invite to a party, things not working out with a girl or just sitting around bored with no plans, I can post something to social media (like this blog), wait 10-15 minutes, and more times than not, at least someone will throw a self-esteem boost my way with a tap of their finger or mouse. It doesn’t take much, after all- Two seconds of their time to acknowledge my post (that took way more than 2 seconds of my time), and I feel a million times better.
Give me all the likes
Make me feel good
Tell me you like me
Put it in my veins
Doesn’t that sound so much better than listening to a sad country song written in 2002 that’s impossible to empathize with? I sure think so. Where was this thing at in seventh grade?
The like button is a genius invention for a generation that seeks to be validated by our peers, role models and society as a whole. It’s a numbing medication for the unliked, a crutch for the crippled Saturday night plans and an addiction for the unvalidated. It serves its purpose and more; however, it does have its letdowns, just like anything else, because just as it takes only a couple of seconds to ‘like’ something, the effects of those ‘likes’ only last a couple of seconds themselves.
This isn’t a post to bash social media, discourage posting on social media or call out a generation’s enjoyment of social media and its interactions; it’s a post to express the way I’ve used it personally to medicate and treat my unliked wounds. Social media is an ocean I’ve fished for likes on for a long time, and it’s a medium that I’ve caught a few on. I love sharing what’s going on in my life with others, my writing and my creativity, but sometimes I wonder whether or not I love the getting ‘likes’ part more.
I hope I don’t.
But odds are as soon as I post this, I’m going to be trolling through my notifications hoping someone will like me.
-Cliff
Cliff’s Note: Likes drive a Coup de Ville too.