I unfollowed my wife. She came home one day, keys jangling against the dusk. Check this out, I said, making a witty joke about a reference, a joke I had made earlier that was laughed at by the right people. She dumped her bags on the chair by the door. I repeated the joke. She went on through the house, past me, past the joke she didn’t get, racing for her cozy clothes by the bed. It was a funny joke. It had a reference in it. She walked past the joke, past me. The right people had laughed at it. She put on her cozy clothes. I unfollowed her. She asked me later to explain the joke, but I had unfollowed her, so there was nothing else I could do.
I unfollowed my dad. He said something about “the Lord”. I don’t like what he believes. He doesn’t know about what I believe. It was family dinner out, at the restaurant where they had a shooting a week later when two men with guns shot and killed a third man who shot at the guests with a gun, and my Dad said something about “the Lord”, and that was one too many things about “the Lord” for me to hear that day. So I unfollowed my Dad. Now I don’t hear about “the Lord” anymore.
I unfollowed the other parents at my kid’s school. It didn’t take long.
I didn’t stop there.
I unfollowed the one who wears those Oakley sunglasses. I unfollowed the one with flaky ears. I unfollowed everyone with a Samsung phone. I unfollowed the one parked outside the Dave & Busters probably waiting to go inside. I was driving fast, I couldn’t be sure. Better to be cautious. I unfollowed the one who chose a heartbreaking brand of beer.
I unfollowed everyone who doesn’t appreciate how much effort I have put into my guilt.