(If you take a pic of this ^ you can go to ‘Add Friends’ and then ‘Add By Snapcode’ and then boom, you’re welcome)
Back in 2000 and late, Snapchat was just another app that I found myself uninterested in; it was new and popular, so of course, being the non-conformist that I am, I refused to become another follower of a social media trend. Stick it to the man, right?
Right.
https://soundcloud.com/lidogotsongs/lido-santell-ashley
I just didn’t understand what it was all about. You send photos to people back and forth, and they were able to see if you opened them, which was the OG Drama Provoker tbh.
I found myself in many awkward situations when people who I haven’t spoken to since middle school would snap me a photo of themselves on their couch saying hello. I have this unhealthy need to please people (something that will certainly lead to my own demise), so whenever I got these “Hey, what’s up, hello” snaps from the kid in my 7th grade P.E. class, I would feel the need to snap back (and tattoos). They would then ask what was up, accompanied by another selfie. I would reply with half of my face. He would reply with a weird face. I would reply with a photo of my foot. He would reply with his arm. It was basically a generic AIM conversation, but worse — it was all in real time and you couldn’t really hide behind an away message.
This would go on and on until someone would take on the burden of looking like an asshole and finally stop responding (spoiler alert: it was never me).
Ah, the good ol’ days.
In my 3rd year of college, I upgraded from an iPhone 3 to an iPhone 5, which obviously signified that I was ready to launch my career in being social media famous. I began categorizing what types of media I could share on my platforms: uploading every photo on Facebook was ok, posting one Instaworthy photo with an 11/10 caption was perfect, tweeting passive aggressive thoughts under 140 characters was acceptable, and writing emo posts on Tumblr that 8th grade me would approve of was absolutely necessary.
But what about Snapchat? It was still a second string app, not even making it onto my homepage.
Nevertheless, I would snap every so often, but I would find myself snapping for no reason; I didn’t understand the need to take a selfie and send it to random people. Why can’t I just send a picture message? Isn’t that the same thing?
And then, something happened.
Ok, a lot of things happened.
I went to my first rave and music festival, which, according to our generation, signified that I had a life and was cool.
I got an iPhone 6, signifying that I had the means of becoming famous (in HD!).
And lastly, My Story was born.
From LA clubs to Coachella, all I had to do was put my thumb on the screen for a few seconds to capture the moment. I think I can say with 110% confidence that I looked the most beautiful in my whole life when the front flash was shining on my face and I swiped to the second colored filter, snapping under the glowing lights at Exchange or 1Oak.
If I was bored in traffic, I could lipsync to whatever was on the radio, either super obnoxiously or super sexily, channeling my inner Kylie. If I was feelin’ myself and looking like an 11/10 and wanted a boy to see how cute I looked without directly sending him a snap saying, “HEY LOOK AT HOW ON FLEEK EVERYTHING IS PLS DATE ME”, My Story was the way to go.
After going to Coachella this past year, a few friends expressed their feelings towards my Snap behavior. Most commented that I had the best stories, and that they felt that they were experiencing all the events I was at. Of course, there were a few haters who complained that my stories were way too long, that I was too into myself, and that I wasn’t enjoying the event because I was too busy looking through my phone screen.
I found myself becoming self conscious of my story; was I posting too much? Was I being way too narcissistic? Were people becoming sick of me because I posted 300+ second stories at events?
That self-consciousness lasted for about 13 seconds because I came up with a highly educated explanation and response to these complaints:
No one is forcing you to watch My Story.
If I do recall, you do not have to type my username into your ‘Add Friends’ box, and you certainly do not have to press your thumb on my username when you see that I have recently posted a story. Unless there is a ninja who finds you and holds you hostage, forcing you to watch what I’ve posted, and then disappears out your window into the darkness of the night, I seriously doubt that anyone is forcing you to watch what I post.
There are tons of haters of avid Snapchatters, and I can understand that; I too am not a fan of friends who talk about their days to their stories, especially when nothing interesting even happened, but who am I to stop them?
If you feel that people need to know that you ate a sandwich that was “just ok”, go on and tell ’em. If you feel like snapping you and your friends taking shots at the bar, YOU BETTER TURN THAT FLASH ON BOO. And if you feel pretty and want to post a selfie with a “#SELFIEGAMESTRONG” caption, GO ON WITH YA BAD SELF.
To all the haters of avid snappers:
Watch My Story to see what I’m up to, or don’t watch it at all.
It’s THAT simple; WHO KNEW.
In conclusion,
underqualified as f_ck 
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