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My Biggest Fear Is Mice and Also Liking Something from 2009 on My Crush’s Facebook Page

A woman sitting in front of a computer covers her face with her hands. She looks embarrassed.
After accidentally liking his "like for a tbh" status from 2008
Mice are God’s punishment for every lustful, greedy, messed-up thing that humans have ever done. I hate their beady eyes, their dirty whiskers, their disease-ridden fur, their incessant squeaks, and their residency in my vent in Kirkland.

But I would happily—gladly—invite an entire family of Stuart Littles to build a home in the floorboards of my dorm room if it meant that I would never accidentally like another post from 2009 on my crush’s Facebook page ever again.

Sometimes, when I am seconds away from falling asleep, I sit up suddenly and realize that there is a non-zero chance that I clicked the like button as I scrolled past his middle-school post, “hey, does any1 know what the hw was for mrs. patterson’s critical reading 2nite?” And in that moment, I would rather be on the phone with Yard Ops as they tell me, “Ma’am, there is nothing we can do about the mouse infestation,” for the sixth time this week.
 
As the mice scavenge in my trashcan, I scour his ninth-grade lab partner's page for something—anything—that will tell me whether she had any feelings for him. Oh God, I bet I shared one of her posts.

Did his sister notice the time that I love-reacted to her photograph of his cousins decorating eggs during Easter 2008? Did his aunt get a notification in the eight seconds before I unliked her 2013 post “Soooooo proud of you for getting into Harvard, sweetie!”? Did he think it was weird that I liked that post circa the Bush presidency in which he sold his Razor Scooter? Just make me watch Ratatouille and put me out of my misery.
 
You try living with mice who get it on more than you do and see how long it takes you to wind up in his "summer '09" album. 
 
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