Snapchat has given us many wonderful things. Silly filters that give us dog ears or comically ugly faces. Sure, there have been a few times where I was like “wow, what a hilarious filter” and then realized I didn’t have any filter turned on, but still.
Snapchat is great. But unfortunately, I’ve come to the realization that it’s also ruining my life.
Like anyone, I enjoy a drink or 12 from time to time. But I’ve been cursed to be a booze-devouring 24-year-old in the digital age. Every generation made intoxicated mistakes. But unfortunately for millennials, we have smartphones to document our every cringeworthy move.
Decades ago, if someone got drunk and wanted to talk to their ex, they couldn’t text them. They’d have to go to their ex’s house. But they were too drunk to drive so they’d jog to their ex’s house and pass out halfway through. They’d wake up the next day in the middle of the street with a raging hangover and a raccoon strangling them. But luckily they never got a chance to speak to their ex. Nowadays we can just send a “u up” text at 3am and hate ourselves for two weeks afterwards.
These iPhones are just too powerful. Thanks to that nerdy fuckboy Steve Jobs the world is always at our fingertips. Which is cool, but it’s dangerous when we’re drunk. Also, someone please tell Steve Jobs I’m sorry. He was a great man.
Snapchat is the biggest example because I love blacking out. It’s a magical, otherworldly experience. You go to a bar with your friends, and then you just wake up at your friend’s boyfriend’s cousin’s girlfriend’s roommate’s couch. How did I get here? Did I teleport? How mysterious.
Blacking out is exciting. You get to be a detective and try to put the pieces of the shameful puzzle together. But the beauty of blacking out is that you may never get any definite answers. It leaves room for fun fantasies. You can tell yourself “maybe I hooked up with all the Hemsworth brothers last night after taking shots of patron with Joe Biden and getting in a fist fight with Lena Dunham on top of the Empire State building.” Think about it, you have no proof that that stuff DIDN’T happen. So technically it’s possible.
Snapchat stories have ruined that. Now whenever I blackout, I can look at my phone and find out exactly what I did. The embarrassment is real. Puked on the dance floor? Check. Made out with someone who had 2-5 Insane Clown Posse tattoos? Check. Stole the declaration of independence? Check. It’s all there for my followers to see.
I know you’re thinking “well, just delete your story.” Well obviously I do, but the damage is done. I now know what I did last night and I can’t erase it from my brain. On top of that, all my friends snapped my hijinks so the world can see what a hot mess I am for another 24 hours.
The mystical mystery of blacking out is gone. Now I’m left with the unflattering truth staring me right in the face with a dog filter..