She wasn’t an influencer when I met her. Agnes was just a cool and beautiful girl who had a social media account, just like many other people. I enjoyed every bit of our relationship until the fourth month. Before that month, I didn’t think much of reality shows, and I quickly scrolled past any content that gave ‘A day in the life’ vibes. Then she got a few more followers, and I felt like part of the cast of Keeping Up With the Kardashians or Real Housewives.
I didn’t even notice it at first.
“Don’t ask for the same thing as I did,” she said as we went for a dinner date.
“Why?” I asked.
“I could use your food’s photo for content,” she said.
I didn’t even like what she’d ordered, so I asked for something else.
Then all our meals outside became a presentation.
“Let me take a pic before you start eating,” said Agnes as soon as the food hit the table.
In our home, we couldn’t touch food before my mother said a prayer. Okay, sometimes we took bites when she wasn’t watching because a prayer for food would turn into a prayer for everything, including the reform of prisoners. With my girlfriend, bites ruined aesthetics, and cold food was the price I had to pay for camera angles.
“You’re not being a supportive boyfriend,” she’d often tell me when I complained.
Agnes remained a cool and beautiful girl, but only the world got this version of her. All I had were memories of the girl I had fallen for.
We would be in the house chilling, watching a movie, and then she would burst out laughing. At first, I wondered what she had found funny in that scene until I realised she’d been on TikTok the whole time I thought we were enjoying the movie together.
“Let me see,” I asked, curious to find out what was so hilarious, but I wouldn’t get the joke.
We stopped watching shows together. She didn’t realise that we stopped.
“You continued to the next episode without me,” Agnes complained.
On a Monday lunch break, a co-worker poked me jokingly, “Why are you watching new episodes of Landman without Agnes?”
“She’s always on the phone and distracted,” I slipped and immediately regretted it. “Wait, how do you know that?”
“Your girlfriend’s Instagram story,” replied the colleague.
It turned out Agnes had quite the following from my place of work. They knew more about my love life than I cared to share. They knew about our weekend routine, how I liked my food, how I dropped socks on the floor and a list of other personal matters.
I hardly watched her content, and I assumed she only shared part of our dates and adventures. It never occurred to me that she was sharing intimate details about us.
After the interaction with my co-worker, I decided to watch every video Agnes had ever posted and read every caption. I had heard the line about ‘supporting’ her too many times already, so I needed to confront her with concrete evidence, not hearsay from my colleagues.
There was a particular video where she was in a podcast episode with a group of women and referenced our relationship on almost every point she made. I learned from the episode that I had stopped being thoughtful because I stopped looking for new places to take her and watched shows without her. I also learned that she ‘liked’ seafood from one of her pictures, yet I was the one who always had the seafood when we went out.
“I hear I don’t take you to new places,” I told her when we met.
“It has been a while,” Agnes replied.
“Do you know why I stopped?” I asked.
“No,” she replied.
“Everything with you became measured against social media standards. Does the place have good lighting? How’s the background? Is it giving romantic vibes?”
“I told you I want to make a career out of influencing,” Agnes defended herself.
“And my co-workers need to know where I shop for my boxers, Agnes?”
“Babe, audiences respond better to authentic content,” she responded.
“Authentic? Like how you’ve been lying to them that you like seafood?” I chuckled.
“A small white lie,” she said.
“I don’t put up my life on socials because I don’t want people knowing my private business. That should have informed you not to use me as part of your content. I’ve worked so hard on my career to have co-workers all up in my personal business,” I told her.
“Then I’ll not say anything else about you,” said Agnes.
“I miss us,” I told her.
I got a few dates to ourselves, and we even managed to watch some shows without commentary from her audience or distractions from her phone. There was a short glimmer of hope. Then she asked if we could go to a certain getaway destination.
“I’ve checked out the place. I thought the weather there affects your skin, plus I don’t think the activities justify the price,” I said.
“Babe, everyone’s going there. The views are to die for, and I’ll use sunscreen,” said Agnes.
If she’d left it at sunscreen, maybe I wouldn’t have seen through it. Her audience would always be at the centre of her decisions. I couldn’t compete. I didn’t want to either. I left her on read and never said another word to her.
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