How to Hack a Heartbreak Page 24

  Get off the internet for a little while. Otherwise, you might let the one get away.

  xo,

  Mel

  * * *

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent the link to the letter to Alex, with a text that said: I’m sorry.

  Then, even though it was barely seven o’clock, I pulled the covers up over my head, blocking out the setting sun. And I went to sleep.

  27

  I slept for eighteen hours. A deep, dreamless sleep, like my brain took a good look around and decided to peace out. If Vanessa hadn’t knocked on my door shortly before one o’clock on Thursday afternoon, I probably would’ve kept on sleeping right through another night.

  “Melanie? You okay in there?” she called.

  When I opened the door, Vanessa jumped back in horror. I guess I must’ve looked pretty rough.

  She didn’t say anything, though. Just smoothed the front of her chiffon blouse and affected a smile. “I haven’t seen you since you got home from California. How’s it going?”

  “Not so hot.”

  “Oh. Sorry. The interview didn’t go well?”

  I shook my head, too worn-out from the entire experience with Fluttr to form words.

  “Listen,” she said, “I saw what you wrote.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “On JerkAlert. Your letter.”

  Right. I’d almost forgotten about that. But now that my brain was fully functioning again, it was all flooding back to me: the obliterated database, the confessional letter, the apology text I sent to Alex. The fact that I was now unemployed, with no job prospects, and the saddest little savings account the world had ever seen.

  “I kind of just wanna go back to bed,” I said, eager to lose consciousness as quickly as possible.

  “Okay,” she said. “But I want you to know, I’m super impressed with you. Not just for creating JerkAlert, but for everything you said in that letter.”

  “Impressed? What I did was supremely stupid. I’m a moron.”

  “No, you aren’t. You’re brave, you’re creative, you’re smart. And you have the best intuition. Like, if it wasn’t for your amazing advice, I never would’ve given up my pointless quest for some ideal guy and given Ray a chance. And I am just so happy with him, Mel. He is really, really wonderful.”

  “That’s great,” I said, deadpan. At least one of us had found romantic fulfillment.

  “My point is, all that stuff you said about getting off the internet and paying attention to the world around you, it was true for me, too. Even though I wasn’t using the internet to find love, I was depending on some clueless matchmaker to set me up with someone who was supposed to be perfect on paper, instead of just trusting my heart and my instincts. You really helped me see that, and I think you have the power to help a lot of other people see that, too.”

  “Thanks.” I was truly glad Vanessa thought I helped her, but on the whole, my insight into how to foster a healthy relationship wasn’t particularly spot-on. JerkAlert was proof of that. So was the whole Alex debacle.

  I closed the door and fell back into bed, grabbing my phone off the nightstand to check my messages. It was foolish to have expected to see a reply from Alex. Of course there wasn’t one. Why would he ever accept my apology? We were over. End of story.

  There was a text from Lia waiting for me, though.

  Hey girl. Hope you’re feeling better today. You know what’ll help lift your spirits? Hot yoga! Class starts at 6:00 PM on St. Mark’s.

  Ugh. There was nothing I wanted to do less than stretch out in a sweltering room full of sweaty people and their smelly feet. Besides, then I’d have to get dressed, take the subway, face the world. Better to let my Groupon go to waste than deal with reality.

  I replied: Not feeling it tonight. Sorry. Then I turned off my phone and dived back beneath the blankets, willing my brain to take another lengthy break.

  * * *

  Astoundingly, I managed to avoid the outside world for another two days. I subsisted on potato chips and frozen burritos, wearing the same filthy sweatpants round the clock and watching Netflix on my laptop with my headphones on to block out the sounds of Vanessa and Ray being happy and in love.

  At some point on Saturday, there was another knock on my bedroom door. I figured it was Vanessa coming to check on me again, but when I opened it, I was surprised to see the girls. Whit, Lia, and Dani all glared at me from the hallway.

  “Why aren’t you answering your texts?” Dani asked.

  “I turned off my phone.”

  They all groaned, and Whit spat, “It didn’t occur to you that we might be freaking out?”

  “You bailed on our Thursday night workout for the first time ever,” Lia said, “then you went totally missing.”

  “Well,” I said, “since I’m without a paycheck for the foreseeable future, I don’t think I’ll be buying any more fitness Groupons, so you might as well get used to going without me.”

  “Oh, lord.” Whit barreled past me into my room and the other girls followed suit. “Spare me the pity party.”

  “When was the last time you showered?” Lia asked with concern.

  “Is this how you’ve been living?” Dani plucked a soiled burrito wrapper from the end of my bed. “No wonder you’re so despondent.”

  “I’m despondent because I lost my job, okay?” I snatched it from her hands, crumpling it in one fist and chucking it toward the garbage bin beside my closet. It bounced off the rim and tumbled pathetically to the floor. “I’m broke and I’m alone and my life sucks.”

  “Just stop it,” Whit said. “You’ve had a few days to mope around in your own filth and feel sorry for yourself. Now it’s time to rejoin the real world. Go take a shower and make yourself presentable. We’re going out to brunch.”

  Pouting, I crossed my arms across my chest. “I can’t exactly afford brunch right now.”

  “It’s on us.” She turned me around and shoved me out into the hall, in the direction of the bathroom. “Get clean. Our reservation’s in twenty minutes.”

  After rushing through a shower and throwing on a pair of jeans, we crossed Atlantic Avenue and headed to Bar Tabac, a charming French bistro on Smith Street that was my usual go-to for brunch. Today, though, nothing looked appetizing. Not even the avocado toast.

  When the waiter came, the girls ordered omelets and Bloody Marys, while I handed back the menu and said, “I’ll just have coffee, please.”

  “You have to eat something,” Lia said.

  “I’ve been stuffing my face with junk food for the past three days,” I said. “I could live off my fat stores for a week.”

  From the scowls on their faces, the girls didn’t find my joke funny.

  “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry I made you guys worry. I just needed a little break from life.”

  Dani squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. The important thing is you’re all right.”

  “I don’t feel all right.” My voice wobbled. “I feel like I’ve screwed everything up, irreparably.”

  “In a way, you kind of did. But that’s okay. Sometimes, you need to burn everything to the ground, so you can build something brand-new.”

  “Are you kidding me? I made a fool of myself in, like, ten different ways. No one in the tech world will ever want to work with me again.”

  The girls exchanged troubled glances. Finally, Whit looked at me and said, “You have no idea what people have been saying, do you?”

  An ice block formed in the center of my chest. “God, don’t tell me I’m trending again.”

  “Yes, you are.” Whit whipped out her phone and loaded Twitter. “After you posted your letter, a new hashtag sprouted up.”

  She passed it over to me and I began scrolling through hundreds of tweets, all tagged with #GetOffTheInternet.

  So
sick of swiping. Mel Strickland said it best. #GetOffTheInternet

  Took this afternoon to #GetOffTheInternet. Totally refreshing. Will do it more often!

  Fluttr sucks! #GetOffTheInternet

  Would love to #GetOffTheInternet but I don’t know any other way to meet single women who are actively looking for a man. Thoughts?

  I even saw one from jboogie2592:

  Taking a Twitter hiatus for a while. #GetOffTheInternet

  “This is cool, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Whit was horrified by my lack of enthusiasm.

  “It’s nice that people have found inspiration in my letter, but it’s not going to get me any closer to a job.”

  “This is a movement, Mel. Fluttr is shitty, everyone knows it, and they’re hungry for something new.”

  “Hold on a second,” Dani said. “Fluttr isn’t totally shitty. I did use it to meet Yvelise.”

  “Oh,” I said, suddenly realizing how out of the loop I had been, “you guys are still seeing each other?”

  “It’s only been a few weeks, but yes.” She bit back a goofy smile and fiddled with one of her braids. “Things are getting serious.”

  “Watch out,” Whit said, “you sound a lot like Lia did when she was dating you-know-who.”

  “Yeah,” Lia added, “are you sure she isn’t married?”

  “Anything’s possible, I suppose. But I’ve been to her apartment and it sure seems like she’s single.” There was that goofy smile again. “I met her cat. His name is Dendrite, but she calls him Denny for short.”

  Whit rolled her eyes, then turned back to me. “What I’m saying is, this could be an opportunity for you to help change the online dating landscape as we know it.”

  I barked a bitter laugh. “That’s what I thought I was doing with JerkAlert, and look how well that turned out.”

  “JerkAlert wasn’t changing anything. Not fundamentally. You were still centering Fluttr as the be-all and end-all of online dating, with JerkAlert as a supplemental tool. But what if you were to introduce something completely different? Something that helps people find love and get off the internet at the same time?”

  Whit’s words were like jumper cables to my brain, infusing it with much-needed power. Neurons fired. Ions flowed. And then, I had the seed of an idea. An idea for a service that would improve people’s lives.

  There was just one problem.

  “I don’t know how.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” Lia said. “Let’s do what we always do—talk it out.”

  For the next hour, we sat in the corner at Bar Tabac and brainstormed my next big opportunity. Mostly, we talked about the problems with the dating status quo: how overwhelming it felt to swipe through thousands of people, making split-second judgments using only a photo and a few key pieces of identifying information. How impossible it felt to establish a human connection without the aid of body language or eye contact. And, of course, how frustrating it felt to be incessantly harassed, and never have anyone take your complaints about it seriously.

  As we discussed the search for love in a digitally disconnected world, my appetite returned. I ordered avocado toast with a side of sausage. By the time our check appeared, my belly was full, and so was my brain. And that seed of an idea was beginning to take root.

  “This is going to take some time to develop,” I said. “This is way more complicated and involved than JerkAlert was. I can’t just whip it up in a weekend.”

  “So?” Whit slapped her credit card down on the table. “You’re unemployed. You’ve got all the time in the world.”

  “That’s the problem. I need another job, immediately. I barely have enough in savings to cover this month’s rent. Right now, I have to focus all my efforts on finding employment with a guaranteed paycheck and some health benefits. Not taking a chance on some project that may or may not find an investor.”

  Lia leaned forward. “I may be able to help. Remember that big pile of crap I had in my apartment? The stuff Jay gave me that I wanted to burn? Well, I took Whit’s advice, and I sold it on eBay. And I made a fortune.” Her eyes lit up when she said the last word.

  “I’m not taking your money,” I said.

  “I’m not giving you my money,” she said. “I’m investing it in your new start-up. When you get rich off your app, I expect to be repaid with interest.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I am. Though I’m not giving you all of it.” She smiled triumphantly. “I’m setting aside a couple grand and booking a solo trip to Cabo.”

  Whit and Dani whooped. “Good for you!”

  “Thanks. I’m pretty excited about traveling on my own.” Lia turned to me with expectant eyes. “So, does that sound good?”

  It sounded better than good. It sounded amazing.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you. I don’t know how to thank you enough. All of you.” I looked around the table, at the faces of my very best friends. The women who pushed me to be the best version of myself I could be.

  “You can thank us by changing the world,” Whit said. “Go home, get started.”

  I practically flew out of my chair, propelled by the power of my flourishing idea. Running up Smith Street, my legs couldn’t move fast enough. I needed to get back to my laptop, to dive in to the code. To seize the opportunity I’d created.

  Finally, I was picking up speed. Someday soon, I might just take flight.

  28

  * * *

  The Creator of JerkAlert Is Launching a New Dating App and We’re Losing Our Minds

  By Kirra Boyce, BuzzFeed Staff

  Posted: Thursday, May 10, 10:32 a.m.

  * * *

  Single ladies everywhere shed a tear the day JerkAlert got wiped away. Without all that useful intel, it was like we were thrust back into the dark ages of Fluttr, never knowing if our next right-swipe would lead to a date or a dick pic.

  Then again, Mel Strickland—the brains behind JerkAlert—had us thinking maybe Fluttr wasn’t the best plan for finding a romantic partner, anyway. Her farewell letter gave us all the feels, and led to the #GetOffTheInternet movement that’s still going strong two weeks later.

  Meeting a mate in real life is a lot harder than it sounds, though. How did people do it before the internet? The very idea of searching for love without the aid of our phones was enough to make us run crying back to Fluttr...

  Until now.

  Because Mel just announced that she’s developed a new app, one that combines the convenience of internet dating with the intimacy of a real-world connection. She’s calling it inPerson, and according to her spokeswoman, it’s going to “change the online dating landscape as we know it.”

  So how can you get your hands on this amazingness? Right now, it’s still in beta, but you can go to their website and get on their waiting list today. And as soon as you get your exclusive inPerson invite, you can delete Fluttr off your phone forever.

  * * *

  Developing JerkAlert had been an isolating experience. Apart from the girls, no one knew it was mine. I toiled in secret, hiding my work, hiding myself. I claimed to be crusading for the truth, but all I did was tell a bunch of lies. And in the end, it didn’t really improve anyone’s dating experience, or help anyone find love. Least of all, me.

  Developing inPerson, though? I never could’ve done it alone. Sure, in the weeks following my departure from Hatch, I’d coded the whole thing myself, but creating a great dating app involves more than just code.

  It requires a deep understanding of the human condition, and the ways in which people interact. Topics that, say, a PhD candidate in Sociology knows a lot about. So, in the weeks following my brunch-time intervention, Dani graciously answered my questions and gave me advice. Whenever I hit a roadblock, I’d take her out for coffee or lunch or edible cookie dough, and she’d happi
ly talk me through my concerns.

  Of course, I never would’ve been able to treat Dani to those working meals if I hadn’t had such a generous investment from Lia. Aside from her monetary contributions, though, she’d also offered up her time and skill by designing a kick-ass inPerson logo. Something that made it look chic and professional. Something that screamed, “This is a serious business.”

  And, as always, Whit was instrumental in getting people to sit up and take notice. She’d dubbed herself my spokeswoman, and used the exact same marketing strategy Fluttr had used in the days before its launch to help build buzz for inPerson: vague emails, teaser tweets, and a gratuitous waitlist, which was currently at over two thousand five hundred sign-ups and counting.

  Perhaps the most important thing Whit taught me, though, was the importance of having a network. People who step up and help you when you send out a distress signal. People who sing your praises when you’ve got something awesome to share. People who you can support when they’re the ones in need of a favor or two.

  Whit had successfully hooked me into her network, but I figured it was about time to start building a network of my own. Specifically, a network of tech-industry professionals who were looking for new opportunities, while at the same time looking out for one another. Coming from the toxic environment in which I’d been mired, it might’ve been an overly idealistic pipe dream. But that wasn’t going to stop me from trying.

  My goal was to organize a tech meetup that was different than the ones already out there. Ideally, we’d pack the room with women, and the men who showed up would have a clear understanding that it wasn’t a meat market, and that harassment and sexist talk would not be tolerated. For example, anyone who told me I didn’t look like a software developer would be tossed out and banned from subsequent events.