Digital Romance: How It Feels To Break Up With Netflix
For five straight months, you have had a set partner to spend every Saturday night with. You waited for the week to end for this lovely salvation.
It provided you with entertainment, laughter and sometimes anxiety.
The anxiety, though, was always short-lived. It arrived in moments. The intensity flamed for a couple minutes, but you were back on solid ground soon enough.
You couldn't bear to stay mad at it for too long. It became your Friday night addiction.
You shared countless calories of assorted Ben & Jerry’s flavors. You gave months of your time, your loyalty and seven whole pounds, all for it to come to a crashing end?
Suddenly, your whole world is turned upside down, and your life as you know it will never be the same.
Thanks for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love, Netflix.
I gave my best self to you. I came to you, loyal and dedicated, as any individual should be. I devoted almost every Friday night to you.
I stayed in when I should have been saying yes to my best friend’s invite to go out dancing.
I said yes to you when my cousin invited me over for dinner. When my mom sent me a text asking me if I’m still alive, I responded a witty "LOL" with bloodshot eyes and heavy lids because I spent almost all night staring at you.
You provided me with a sense of enjoyment unlike any other form of entertainment. I could be myself around you.
You didn’t judge me for having greasy hair, naked eyes and my alumni sweatpants from high school that are technically two sizes too small.
You didn’t care that I ate an entire bowl of popcorn in one sitting, and when I came home, crying from a horrible day at work, you were there with my recommendations of what to watch.
And you know what? You were always right.
I loved your recommendation of "Scrotal Recall." I loved your recommendations of "Arrested Development," "The Office" and "How I Met Your Mother."
How did I ever exist without these shows? You introduced me to a world of Tobias Fünke, Michael Scott and Barney Stinson.
I can’t go back. I can’t go back to a world of living where these characters don’t exist.
You tricked me with false promises they’d always be there and that you’d always be there, with new shows and a scheduled date every weekend night. But, you lied. You lied to me.
I feel like I’m stuck in limbo. I don’t care to wait until October to see new episodes of "Once Upon a Time" once per week, just like everyone else.
You provided me with a now-ruined sense of routine.
You gave me the opportunity to cuddle on warm leather seats, wrapped in fuzzy blankets, a steaming cup of coffee and leftover pizza, all while you just played every new episode without me ever pressing a button.
You made my life convenient. You made my life easy.
Now, trying to exist is hard. I push myself to try and immerse with the others in the daylight. I force conversations with friends, coworkers and my boyfriend, who apparently changed his image and is side parting his hair.
I try and focus on attending college, writing papers and buying a shirt that will look nice with jeans, but it’s not easy. Living without you isn’t easy.
I pine for the days when I could wear baggy sweats with unpolished nails and feel accepted.
I’m filled with longing. I’m filled with this thirst that cannot be quenched and a hunger that cannot be satisfied
All the Cherry Garcia in the world couldn’t fill this void left hanging in my chest.
I’ll just be sitting restlessly, with my spoon anxiously waiting in my left hand, hopeful for the day when "Portlandia" returns and life can go back to normal.
I'll be able to obsess over thick-rimmed glasses, women-owned bookstores and scrawny auto mechanics once more.
Life will be whole again. I will be whole again.