Hatch could take the schema, but they couldn’t take the story.
As thousands of records disappeared from existence, I composed a letter, posting it on JerkAlert.biz, in place of the home page.
* * *
Dear JerkAlert User,
Things look a little different around here, huh?
Allow me to explain.
My name is Melanie Strickland. A few weeks ago, I created JerkAlert on a whim. I’d had a few bad days dealing with a few bad dudes, and I thought creating a website to get revenge on them would somehow make things better.
At first, I just wanted some catharsis. But as time went by, I realized this could be an opportunity for me to improve the online dating landscape. I envisioned JerkAlert as a safe space for women to avoid harassment, a way to weed out the liars and the frauds. I hid my true identity, thinking this would protect me, thinking I deserved it because I was doing something noble.
Well, I was wrong. About everything. Because JerkAlert wasn’t a safe space. It was yet another online forum for harassment and bullying, allowing users to conceal themselves beneath the cloak of anonymity. It became the exact thing I was trying to fight against. It was anything but noble.
And hiding my identity didn’t protect me, either. In fact, my life is much worse now than I ever could’ve imagined.
I’ll spare you the details, but now JerkAlert is no longer mine. I’m sure it’ll continue to exist in one form or another, but I won’t be the one running things behind the scenes. Any reviews you added before today have been deleted. You can make the decision for yourself whether you want to continue to use this site moving forward. Before you do, though, let me offer some advice:
Never trust anything you read on the internet.
And never trust the internet with your heart.
If you’re looking for love, stop swiping. Instead, look up. Look around. The love of your life could be working in your office, or sitting next to you in a bar, or standing right beside you on a crowded city street.
Get off the internet for a little while. Otherwise, you might let the one get away.
xo,
Mel
* * *
Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent the link to the letter to Alex, with a text that said: I’m sorry.
Then, even though it was barely seven o’clock, I pulled the covers up over my head, blocking out the setting sun. And I went to sleep.
27
I slept for eighteen hours. A deep, dreamless sleep, like my brain took a good look around and decided to peace out. If Vanessa hadn’t knocked on my door shortly before one o’clock on Thursday afternoon, I probably would’ve kept on sleeping right through another night.
“Melanie? You okay in there?” she called.
When I opened the door, Vanessa jumped back in horror. I guess I must’ve looked pretty rough.
She didn’t say anything, though. Just smoothed the front of her chiffon blouse and affected a smile. “I haven’t seen you since you got home from California. How’s it going?”
“Not so hot.”
“Oh. Sorry. The interview didn’t go well?”
I shook my head, too worn-out from the entire experience with Fluttr to form words.
“Listen,” she said, “I saw what you wrote.”
“What do you mean?”
“On JerkAlert. Your letter.”
Right. I’d almost forgotten about that. But now that my brain was fully functioning again, it was all flooding back to me: the obliterated database, the confessional letter, the apology text I sent to Alex. The fact that I was now unemployed, with no job prospects, and the saddest little savings account the world had ever seen.
“I kind of just wanna go back to bed,” I said, eager to lose consciousness as quickly as possible.
“Okay,” she said. “But I want you to know, I’m super impressed with you. Not just for creating JerkAlert, but for everything you said in that letter.”
“Impressed? What I did was supremely stupid. I’m a moron.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re brave, you’re creative, you’re smart. And you have the best intuition. Like, if it wasn’t for your amazing advice, I never would’ve given up my pointless quest for some ideal guy and given Ray a chance. And I am just so happy with him, Mel. He is really, really wonderful.”
“That’s great,” I said, deadpan. At least one of us had found romantic fulfillment.
“My point is, all that stuff you said about getting off the internet and paying attention to the world around you, it was true for me, too. Even though I wasn’t using the internet to find love, I was depending on some clueless matchmaker to set me up with someone who was supposed to be perfect on paper, instead of just trusting my heart and my instincts. You really helped me see that, and I think you have the power to help a lot of other people see that, too.”
“Thanks.” I was truly glad Vanessa thought I helped her, but on the whole, my insight into how to foster a healthy relationship wasn’t particularly spot-on. JerkAlert was proof of that. So was the whole Alex debacle.
I closed the door and fell back into bed, grabbing my phone off the nightstand to check my messages. It was foolish to have expected to see a reply from Alex. Of course there wasn’t one. Why would he ever accept my apology? We were over. End of story.
There was a text from Lia waiting for me, though.
Hey girl. Hope you’re feeling better today. You know what’ll help lift your spirits? Hot yoga! Class starts at 6:00 PM on St. Mark’s.
Ugh. There was nothing I wanted to do less than stretch out in a sweltering room full of sweaty people and their smelly feet. Besides, then I’d have to get dressed, take the subway, face the world. Better to let my Groupon go to waste than deal with reality.
I replied: Not feeling it tonight. Sorry. Then I turned off my phone and dived back beneath the blankets, willing my brain to take another lengthy break.
* * *
Astoundingly, I managed to avoid the outside world for another two days. I subsisted on potato chips and frozen burritos, wearing the same filthy sweatpants round the clock and watching Netflix on my laptop with my headphones on to block out the sounds of Vanessa and Ray being happy and in love.
At some point on Saturday, there was another knock on my bedroom door. I figured it was Vanessa coming to check on me again, but when I opened it, I was surprised to see the girls. Whit, Lia, and Dani all glared at me from the hallway.
“Why aren’t you answering your texts?” Dani asked.