Welcome to “Another Important Piece of Writing” a monthly newsletter/life update/writing exercise/rant/potentially the next most important piece of literature from the 21st century but probably not.
I never thought I would see the day – its been prophesied and mytholigised, sure – but you never really know when it’s going to hit you until it does; smack bang right in the noggin’ on an innocent Instragram stalk. But I’ve done it, I’m finally at the age my exes are starting to get divorced.
To be fair it’s the one ex, but that’s how it starts! They get married young but once their brains have fully formed they start to get the itch, they wonder… “Is this it? Is there nothing else out there for me but this? What’s Bridget doing these days?” (This isn’t how it went down, but whose to say it’s outside of the realm of possibilities?)
I’m trying to decide how I feel about it. It has literally nothing to do with me whatsoever, infact my beak could not be stickier, but I suppose if you’ve been inside of me enough times (physically fucking or mentally destroying) then what you end doing with your life will endlessly intrigue me.
I perpetually compare the choice of dating me to any other choices you make there on after and will try to connect the dots. For example: How does one date me and then later decide to get a Death Eaters tattoo? How does one date me and then realise they’re gay? How does one date me and then decide to stalk me years later through an Instagram page for their dog? It’s an endless endeavour of red strings and conspiracy walls trying to figure out if I’m the cause or effect, if I’m where you peaked or if god forbid, I was your rock bottom. Not to toot my own horn but for the majoirty of the aforementioned, I feel pretty confident about being one of the more decent decisions some have made.
It did make me think… Am I behind? Am I the failure? I haven’t even been married once, infact not even close! Should I be racking up a string of husbands and wives leaving a trail of broken hearts, alimony payments and multiple Facebok marketplace listings hocking my old engagement rings? Should I have endured multiple different, weird family Christmases? Or had a slurry of children calling me “Aunty Bridge” only to soon never be heard from again?
I would imagine my dear divorced-at-29-years-old ex probably doesn’t feel like he’s ahead because of all this, so perhaps I shouldn’t be too worried about where I am just yet. I have all the time in the world to ruin my life, why rush it?
All and all, I think I decided that it’s pretty funny (Sorry, *******). In lieu of rings, they decided to get matching hand tattoos (not finger – HAND). I’m not gonna make it mywhole life by any means, but I will absolutely be keeping tabs on the whole removal process. How could I not?
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We all joke about a little FBI agent living in our phone listening to everything we say and do to justify the eerily specific ads we get. I know there logically can’t be one agent for every human being with a smart phone – the logistics and budgeting would be a nightmare! – but I’ve been getting ads for things that, although incredibly relevant to me and things going on in my life, I’ve never searched I’ve only spoken about.
Example 1) I was discussing hotel bookings with a colleague at work. I pointed out a list on a post-it note that I’d written down of all the preferred hotels our manager told us to check availibity with first. There was about 5 hotels from memory: Mantra, Ibis, Oaks, Adina and Breakfree. On my next scroll on Instagram all my sponsored ads were for these hotels and more, showcasing luxurious backgrounds and locations all of which if it paid attention to my spending habits (which it obviously is) would know I couldn’t afford.
Example 2) My manager is setting up a training day with an outside company on how to deal with difficult calls. She sent around an email asking about examples we could use and we then discussed it in a Teams meeting later. As is now the evidently the pattern, the next Insta scroll shows the exact difficult caller course with the exact company we had just been talking about.
In fairness to the algorithm I was signed in on Google Chrome with that same email being linked to my Instagram. However, the email we talked about it in was on a seperate Outlook application. So even though I can potenially see where it gathered that information, I don’t really feel good about it’s reach.
Example 3) Genuinely the creepiest example and one that I still really don’t understand. My friend is big on TikTok and was recently given a free vibrator. She already owned this exact vibrator and threw it out to the girls group chat to claim. I was first in, with the bounty becoming rightfully mine. I didn’t know what make and model to expect because she had just said “vibrator”, but I’m always down for a lucky dip (there’s a euphemism in there somewhere).
The next time I saw her she beat herself up saying she had forgotten “my present”. I, completely forgetting about my spoils asked “What present?” She stared at me, eyes more wide and glaringly she whispered “You know, the present!” Realising my stupidity, I said “Oh, right, yes. All good, no rush!”
Cut to about 2 weeks later I met up her to play pool and she quitely hands me a tote bag with a big smile of her face, “I remembered it this time!” which I graciously accepted, just as happily.
Not too long after I ended up using it for the first time (slut!) I found myself having a lesiruely scroll on the ‘gram. At this point I will remind you that I’ve not uttered the brand or model name, nor did I google or look up the device, or go to their website. The first ad that comes up is for the EXACT make and model of the vibrator currently drying out of my dishrack. I felt like I’d seen a ghost! (which is weird ‘cause it’s bright orange) I simply could not understand how the fuck it could know, outside of having the device in my vicinity and turning it on, that this was something I wanted or had in my possession.
Shit. Is. Creepy! I don’t like it! While also, not knowing how to do a single god damn thing about it!
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I recently finally got diagnosed with ADHD. What? Another Inner West, neurodivergent, queer creative with ADHD? Get the fuck out of here! I know, I know! But I suppose it’s a stereotype for a reason.
It’s all much the muchness, I don’t have anything too exciting to report outside of how it’s cool I can afford to see a doctor finally (nice) and more interestingly, the insanity that can be found on the ADHD reddit.
When I first started my first round of meds it absolutely rocked. my. shit. In the afternoon of the first few days I felt like I was going a million miles an hour and tried to look for solace on the internet, enter r/ADHD. I found some great anecdotal evidence to suggest that what I was going through was normal, and my body adjusting to a new drug. That particular medication ended up not being quite right for me so I’m trialling another, but not before I lurked through the lunacy that was this subreddit.
A lot of people, myself included, find a lot of solace in an ADHD diagnosis. It answers SO many questions and makes SO much of your life make sense. On the hand as I’ve found, there seems to be a minority of sufferers who think that all of their negative, unfavourable traits must also be due to their ADHD.
So, please enjoy this collection of post from people who think that the reason they are complete fucking assholes incapable of holding down a relationship or even showing a miniscule of love and compassion MUST be due to their ADHD:
Anyways, thanks for reading. As always, if you enjoyed this and you’re not subscribed feel free to smash that subscribe button. If you really enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a coffee.
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