Instagram Plus Is a New Low

A couple of years ago, an old flame of mine had the nerve to start dating a new woman. He had posted a photo with her on Instagram; they were wrapped around each other, smiling, with a cheeky caption that I took to be some sort of lovers’ inside joke. I clicked on her username. She had a public Instagram account, so I was free to peruse her photos until I reached her high-school graduation, or until I made myself cry, whichever came first. I noticed she’d posted an Instagram story that day. It was the only bit of content I couldn’t access without revealing myself—users can see a list of everyone who opens their stories. So I did what any sane woman would do. I logged back in to my dead dog’s Instagram account and looked.