Facebook Stalker

I was sitting in front of my laptop on my bed surrounded by a huge white down comforter, four pillows, a bottle of wine, and three empty beer cans furiously clicking through Justin’s pictures on Facebook. Who was this girl in the pictures with him? Why was his arm around her? And why is she all over his Facebook wall?!?! I immediately picked up the phone and called Natasha.
“Hello?”
“Natasha! Who is this fat girl all over Justin’s Facebook profile?”
“I don’t know... Wait, let me sign in and look.”
“I need to know who she is,” I continued. “Are they together now? Already? I mean, we just broke up like 2 weeks ago and now he has some bitch all over his Facebook profile?!”
“Wait. Which girl are we talking about?”
“The one with the long straight blonde…is there more than one?”
Natasha was silent, but I can hear the clicking from her laptop.
“Natasha?”
“I guess you can’t see the other pictures because you’re not friends with Terrance,” she says finally.
“There are more pictures?!”
“Well…yeah,” Natasha said carefully. “But I’m more worried about the blonde than the redhead.”
“There’s a redhead?!”
“Yeah…” she said slowly.
I was stunned. How had sweet Justin turned into some sort of pimp over night?! I hadn’t even been on a date since we broke up. This couldn’t be. I won’t believe it. This redheaded girl must be ugly. She must be fat.
“Natasha, I need you to e-mail me the picture of Justin and the redhead girl. I need to see it.”
“Honey, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Look, I know I’m being crazy. I know that this is not the right thing to do, but please humor me.”
“I don’t know…”
“Natasha! Send. Me. The. Picture.”
“Are you sure?”
“SEND IT!”
“Okay…”
I knew I was being crazy, but I couldn’t help it. Justin was the first guy that I had really felt like I could be with, like really be with. I broke up with him because I was scared of him. I was scared of the way he felt about me, the way he made me feel about myself, and most of all I was scared of the way I felt about him. I knew the second I hung up the phone with him the night we broke up that I had made a mistake, but there was no going back.
“Weren’t you the one that broke up with him?” Natasha asked carefully. Although I found the question slightly hurtful I knew that she was just trying to snap me out of my drunken craziness, but I couldn’t be stopped. The crazy had been unleashed and it just needed to run its course.
“Yes,” I said reluctantly. She had me there. “It’s not like I care,” I said trying to recover some dignity. “It’s just the principle! And besides I didn’t break up with him because I didn’t like him. We broke up because he didn’t want to be in a relationship. CLEARLY what he meant was that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with ME!”