Stop Letting Social Media Create Insecurity in Your Relationship
Of the many pitfalls of social media, one of the most egregious — to me, anyway — is its effects on relationships.
What are some timeless harbingers of relationship doom? Lipstick on the collar, or a trace of an unfamiliar cologne. . .right? Yet somehow, that lipstick has become “likes” and that cologne “comments.”
“Why is he liking all her pictures on Instagram?”
“Why does she keep commenting on his Facebook statuses?”
Social media is a petri dish for insecurity. Insecurities that have always existed — but as people become more and more inextricably linked to these platforms, these insecurities have traveled with them and taken on new, insidious forms.
It’s led to anxious nights of timeline stalking, and arguments with finger-pointing. Tension, despondence, “blocks” and ultimatums.
Before reacting to something you perceive to be a threat, consider this:
First, social media is not real life, no matter how much some people wish to make it so.
And if the fears do become factual — if your partner is, indeed, doing you wrong — it’s not on you. You weren’t duped. You didn’t fall for anything. The fault rests with them and them alone.
I suddenly have a song stuck in my head. . .
“You must remember this,
A kiss is still a kiss,
A sigh is just a sigh —
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by.”
Would Herman Hupfeld have included Facebook “Likes” and comments in “As Time Goes By,” or would he, too, have found them inconsequential?
What is a Like, anyway? Certainly not a declaration of undying love for the recipient. No, it’s more the cyber equivalent of a passing glance — which some may find offensive, sure, but it is not something that merits the level of hand-wringing that it often brings about.
And “comments”. . . Apart from the openly flirtatious, comments are just conversations happening over the Internet.
Forbidding a partner from looking at or speaking to others is a form of relationship abuse. It’s insecure, controlling behavior. And yet, it so often gets a pass when it’s done over the Internet.
While doing some research for this piece, I came across a term I’d never seen before: Interpersonal electronic surveillance, or IES. It relates to the surveillance activities in which people engage on social media: stalking their family members, friends, strangers, and, yes, significant others (Tokunaga, 2015). It’s a perfect label for the problem explored here.
Which of us haven’t scrolled through a profile, looking for information we think might be relevant? Furthermore, how much of that activity has revolved around a partner, and/or a second person you find threatening to your relationship, and searching for specifically incriminating details?
The problem with being an Internet sleuth is that Internet sleuths so often get it wrong. They don’t have all the facts, they’re staring at the situation from a narrow, offset angle, and most importantly: they put emphasis on tiny, inconsequential things, making them more damning than they really are.
And then the worrying starts. The anxiety, the insecurity, the depression, the anger. Some may be inclined to shrivel into themselves. Others may point fingers.
“But what if I’m right about them and that other person?”
There are two outcomes to this kind of situation: right and wrong. The former will piss you off, and the latter will piss them off.
Furthermore, the energy you waste sleuthing, regardless of outcome, isn’t worth the result. The ensuing bitterness and jealousy and self-loathing only serves to bring you down.
Which brings us to my second point. . .
If they’re in the wrong, it’s not your fault. So why worry?
It’s not your job to catch your partner red-handed on the Like button. It’s not on you if they’ve chosen to step outside of the relationship by whatever degree. You haven’t been fooled; previous sleuthing on your part will not absolve you of whatever foolishness you feel.
Instead, try trusting your partner instead. When they say there’s nothing going on between them and that random person on Facebook, believe them. Believe, and then let it go. Because any energy spent fretting over the hypothetical is energy wasted.
I understand all too well that once trust has been broken before in love, it is hard to build it up again. The chinks in the armor will always be there. But spending feverish hours poring over every potential piece of “evidence” on their timeline is not the way to mitigate your insecurities.
The only way you can grow out of these insecurities is to not give them any credence at all. A “Like” is a tap of the button; how can it possibly compare to what exists between you and your lover? It can’t, and it doesn’t — and don’t let it compare, either.
“A Like is just a Like. . .” Perhaps we need an updated version of an old standard.
And if it somehow is a harbinger of doom? It’s on them, not on you.
