Show me a person who says they haven’t had a good old fashioned social media creep, and I’ll show you a god damn liar!
I hold my creeping skills with an almighty high regard, so if we match on Tinder, you’d better watch out (my God I’m so openly pathetic) .
We’ve all been there. You come home from a night out, locked, and decide why wouldn’t it be a good idea to poke my trainer on Facebook over and over again until I pass out? Why wouldn’t I call my ex and leave him 48 missed calls and when they ask you the next day, deny it, even though your number was on display.
If you’re reading this, I still maintain that was not me. Why wouldn’t I go on Instagram and trawl through to 2013 and start liking photos?
We all have horror stories of creeping. For a while I was doing quite well. I was sort of scoring this guy who was a ride, and because I’m an absolute creep I would proudly announce it to everyone that would listen. I would whip out my phone, and instead of acting cool and non-chalant, I liked to go straight to the roof top. ‘You see this guy? Well I’ve seen his D’.
So obviously, when my sister’s friend who I hadn’t seen in a good few years came over, I decided to run in and tell her about my new boyfriend. He of course was oblivious to the fact that we were dating. Gas. Guys can be so silly…
So anyway I scrolled down to 17 weeks previous, to my go to photo and shoved his half naked, delicious body in her face. She then went to zoom in. And liked the photo by accident. Well I basically rang the nearest funeral home, and booked myself in. No need to pay for a grave digger, I’ve already dug that myself, thanks.
The worst creeping experience I’ve had was with a Norwegian guy called Jonas (I know. Very international). Let me take you back to a cold, dark night in Sam’s Bar (dark remember).
Creeping: everyone checks up online
So I’m with my friends having a few drinks when next thing I meet a very charming guy. We hit it off and we scored. He asked me to go back to his but I said no because I’m a lady. Well, that night. So the next day, we were texting away and I couldn’t believe my luck.
I rang my friend Paddy who was there the night before and he assured me the guy was an absolute babe, so I thanked the Gods and continued messaging him.
Later that night, while pre drinking with the girls, we played our favourite game. It is very simply called ‘Hook Up Yer Phone There To The Apple TV And We’ll Have A Creep’. Rolls off the tongue. So since it was less than 24 hours, Jonas was playing hard to get and hadn’t added me on Facebook yet. Risky little game Jonas..
We decided to go find him. Let’s be real, my A1 creeping skills, mixed with the fact that there are probably 10 Jonas’ in the world, let alone in Ireland, I was bound to find him. And low and behold I did..
Facebook: You can always find people online
There he was. He had a very original photo, I’ll give him that. I’d never seen it before. By the looks of things he was drinking Guinness in what appeared to be a house that stored only Guinness? Gas. When I clicked in on his profile, I sat with baited breath, hoping to strike gold. My womb was pounding with excitement, fallopian tubes going 90. And there it was. A PUBLIC PROFILE (the dream for any good creeper).
His hair was a lot more golden than I had remembered, but it was very dark. He was quite good-looking though, and the girls agreed in unison, after I forced them to reassure me. So we scrolled and scrolled. He had moved over to Ireland the year previous with his sister. So far so good. They had some dodgey tourist photos, ice bucket challenges and every so often he shared a status on how Facebook’s privacy settings would be changing at midnight.
As we kept scrolling, the girls kept reassuring me. Him and his sister seemed to have really settled in, and tried to embrace Ireland. They were living together, bought a dog together. They went to visit the Blarney Stone. He kissed it, then he kissed her. It was beautiful. Carrying on some weird, Norwegian sibling tradition that is totally not appropriate in Irish society but they did it for their ancestors. It was only when I scrolled and kept scrolling that I realised Jonas wasn’t some incestuous freak, his ‘sister’ was his girlfriend. Well..
That night when Jonas text me, I read it, but never replied. Purely because he text me asking what I was up to and I was hardly gonna write back ‘oh creeping on you and your girlfriend on an Apple tv lol x’. The next day I was filled with rage. Rage and indigestion from a large dominos, but mainly rage. Who does this fucker think he is? Bringing his poor girlfriend over to Ireland, only to score Dublin’s biggest Michelle Keegan look-a-like in the D15 area.
Young little Jonas was about to feel my wrath. So I wrote back to his measly ‘hey what you up to’ with ‘Oh nothing just wondering if you can explain this?’. I then attached a photo of him and his girlfriend. He had the audacity to write back very sharpish, playing the confused card…Sorry, if I can manage to take the pill everyday, I’m sure you can remember who you moved country with.Â
But Jonas kept denying his other life. To the point where he actually said that wasn’t even him in the picture. He kept asking me could he send me a selfie to prove I was wrong. I told him to fire away. Another picture of his lying face wasn’t going to change anything. Until it did..
You see it turns out, I might have, maybe, sort of, creeped on the wrong Jonas. And by might have, I mean I did. I 100% creeped on the wrong Jonas. I mean if you think about it, it’s funny. What are the odds that there’s more than one Jonas living in Dublin? Actually, when you check sober, they are very high.
I had accused an innocent Jonas, of a heinous Jonas crime. I’m ashamed to say I wrote back ‘LOL’ and nothing after that. If you’re interested in seeing what I thought Jonas looked like, you’ll find him here, but please, don’t be fooled. She is NOT his sister.
So what have I learned about creeping?
1. When you have to tell yourself you’re not that drunk, you are that drunk.
2. Jonas is actually quite a common name
3. It probably isn’t best to assume incest right off the bat
4. 48 missed calls is better than 49
5. I actually haven’t taken my pill today
See ya next Sunday, creep crusaders!
Orla x
