Thriving Through the Thirties

^{Chronicles of a Social Media Breaker}

After deactivating Instagram and muting the group chat drama on WhatsApp, you’d think I’d be safe. But no. Turns out, the real danger wasn’t in the notifications I silenced—it was in the one that never came.

Let’s take a quick detour down heartbreak lane, circa 2018.

I recently revisited an old blog post I wrote called “Oh! Mais ça arrive aussi aux femmes de 30 ans… ou presque”. If you’ve never read it, go take a look and meet a past version of me—soft, slightly delusional, and very much on her “maybe he’ll call” journey.

And to this day, that’s the only man who came up to me, politely asked for my number, asked what time was best to call… and never called. Not a text. Not a WhatsApp. Not even a missed call in the middle of the night to give me an excuse to feel something. Nothing.

I was glued to my phone for days. That kind of unhealthy, obsessive checking where your screen time spikes, your self-worth dips, and your rational brain goes on vacation.

It’s been years, and I still don’t have a solid answer as to what happened. How did I misread the signs so badly? I replayed our interaction a thousand times like a director editing a film. I imagined alternate endings, rewritten scripts, and even wild timelines where I sneak into his phone and delete my own number before he ghosts me.

That one broke my ego a little—and it never really healed.

Funny enough, we never crossed paths again. Not in the supermarket. Not at an event. Not on the street. It’s like he vanished. Maybe he was an angel sent to humble me. Maybe he was just a man with commitment issues… and the kind of perfume that stays in your memory longer than he did. Who knows?

But I think that moment left a quiet mark. Because even now, when I send a message, I brace for silence. When I let someone in, there’s a part of me that’s still bracing for a disappearance I won’t understand.

And isn’t that the quiet heartbreak of digital life? Not just the noise, but the absence of it. The waiting. The refreshing. The spiral that happens not when someone breaks your heart—but when they just don’t show up at all.

So, if you’ve ever waited for a message that didn’t come, please know I’ve been there. Still there, maybe. If you’ve ever misread the vibe, trusted the spark, or handed out your number thinking something special had just started—come sit with me. Let’s form a support group. Maybe even a WhatsApp one (just kidding, I’m still not ready for that).

Drop your story in the comments—or in my DMs, if I happen to be back online by then. Let’s help each other make peace with the messages that never came.