Digital Love in the Time of Social Media: A Modern Romance

My laptop fan whirred in protest as I opened tab number 23 on Google Chrome. Empty boba cups littered my desk, and my cat, Mochi, judged me from atop my emergency ramen stash.

"Don't look at me like that," I mumbled, fishing yesterday's fortune cookie from under my keyboard. "This is totally normal research."

Mochi's tail flicked: Sure, Jan.

Look, I didn't mean to fall down this social media rabbit hole. But after he fixed my catastrophic coffee maker explosion at the hackathon (while quoting Star Trek in mangled Mandarin), what was I supposed to do? Not Google him?

The evidence of my late-night stalking spread across my screen like a conspiracy theorist's wall:

His YouTube recommendations betrayed a soul mate: coding tutorials mixed with "How to Not Burn Coffee | Beginner's Guide" and indie bands I pretended to know. The comments section revealed he'd actually tried making dalgona coffee during lockdown. It ended with a fire extinguisher involved.

Facebook timeline archaeology revealed three years of adorkable profile pics, each one worse than the last. Thank god - perfect people are suspicious. His latest post: "If anyone needs a quantum physics study buddy who stress-bakes at midnight, I come with coffee and only minimal kitchen fires."

I'd spent an embarrassing amount of time on WhatsApp Web, watching those three dots appear and disappear. Google Translate had become my best friend/enabler:

"雨天的记忆"

"Either 'rainy day memories' or 'wet fish market'—my' Mandarin's as broken as my coffee maker."

His status updates were a journey through time:

"Debugging life and dumplings"

"Coffee maker: 1, Me: 0"

"Anyone know how to remove boba stains from a keyboard?"

The Weather app mocked me with its prediction: Rain expected. Just like when I'd word-vomited about quantum physics under his umbrella. He'd listened intently, nodding along, while rain dripped from his glasses and his laptop bag slowly soaked through. Instead of running for cover, he'd pulled out his phone to show me memes about Schrödinger's cat.

Gmail draft #8:

"Hey, remember that girl who stress-rambled about Schrödinger's cat while you cleaned up her coffee explosion?"

Delete.

"So, I noticed we have the same terrible sleep schedule..."

Delete.

"Your coffee disasters make me feel better about my life choices..."

Delete. Delete. Delete.

Instagram suggested his golden retriever's account at 2 AM. Einstein the Dog, with his own series of failed fetch attempts and confused head tilts. I followed it. From Mochi's profile. Real smooth. Within minutes, Einstein had liked every single one of Mochi's photos. All 47 of them.

Amazon helpfully reminded me I'd panic-bought the same physics book in his wishlist, along with "Cooking for the Scientifically Challenged" and "How to Impress Your Asian Mom When You Can't Cook Rice." At this point, Jeff Bezos was personally invested in my love life.

My phone pinged with notifications from every possible app:

YouTube: "User has added 'How to Ask Someone Out Using Star Trek Quotes'"

Instagram: "Einstein_The_Dog liked your photo from 3 years ago"

Weather: "Rain starting in 10 minutes"

WhatsApp: "Typing..."

Then my phone lit up:

"Someone viewed your LinkedIn profile."

Oh no.

Oh NO.

Message:

"So... either we're studying the same quantum physics book, or you're as bad at stealth mode as I am at making coffee. Want to be disasters together? My dog already follows your cat on Instagram, and I have a new coffee maker with a fire-prevention warranty. Bonus: I make terrible dumplings but great quantum physics puns."

A second message followed:

"P.S. I've been trying to work up the courage to message you since the hackathon. Your Star Trek quote was perfect, even if your coffee maker wasn't."

Three months later:

We now have a joint Amazon Prime account (for bulk buying fire extinguishers), a coffee maker that only explodes on special occasions, and a shared Google Calendar titled "Disaster Management Schedule." Our pets have their own YouTube channel: "Einstein & Mochi: When Dogs & Cats Code Together."

Sometimes love isn't about perfect algorithms or carefully curated profiles. Sometimes it's about matching disaster energies, mutual stalking skills, and pets who understand that humans need all the help they can get.

Even if Google Translate still can't figure out what we're trying to say in Mandarin.