“Two hundred thousand subscribers!”
I wake up to Wendy jumping on my bed, almost squashing my face in the process. She lets out a joyful squeal and drops down next to me, breathless. “Do you realize how many people that is? Two hundred thousand people.”
I rub my eyes, removing a strand of her hair stuck on her face. “You realize that not every single one of those followers is a real person, right?”
She rolls her eyes and hits me on the arm, hard. “Stop ruining my mood.”
“Sorry.”
“We need to celebrate!”
“Do you really think two hundred thousand subscribers on YouTube is that much of a big deal?” I say, pretending to look bored, watching for her reaction.
She looks at me, dumbfounded. Hurt fills her face.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” I pull her towards me, speaking against her hair. “I was just kidding. Let’s go celebrate. You’re a real famous person now.”
A grin spreads across Wendy’s face.
…
My girlfriend Wendy has always been an influencer, even from before I met her a year ago. She’s very beautiful, one of the factors to her growing fame, but she also makes good content. Unboxing stuff. Makeup tutorials. Vlogs.
Not to mention her radiating energy and wicked humor.
As much as I love her, sometimes she does stupid things. Sometimes she shares too much on the Internet.
Once, she posted a picture of me in my boxers on her story. Needless to say, I made her delete it, but it did kind of become a meme that my friends would occasionally sneak in into the groupchat. That’s not the worst of it.
She just does too much. Spends hours upon hours filming and editing videos, hundreds of dollars buying makeup to review, and just way too much time being a social media influencer. It’s come to the point that people recognize and talk to her in the streets.
And that makes me known as “Wendy Keller’s boyfriend in boxers.”
This hasn’t bothered me until things began spiraling out of control. Wendy’s phone would always be busy, even at urgent situations where I absolutely had to call or text her. She would spent countless nights watching videos to “get inspiration,” while laughing like a maniac at the comedy videos that come up in her feed.
Waking me up in the process.
The boxers picture was just one of the things she’s done that’s kind of seeped into my personal life. It began taunting me. The amount of attention I was getting - I wasn’t used to it. I didn’t like it. I found it quite disturbing how so many people would pay so much attention to complete strangers on the Internet.
But it was Wendy’s passion and hobby, so there’s little I could do about it.
I began waiting for her to hit a milestone. Something she’s very excited for. I realized that 200k would be a very big achievement for her.
I began creating random new accounts to subscribe to her channel, just to quicken the process. I would stalk her channel daily, watching her newly posted videos and updated amount of subscribers.
Waiting for her to hit that milestone. So I could do something special for her.
And when she did, this morning, she came bursting into my room once again, ruining my peaceful night of sleep. Ruining my mood, though I tried to hide it. Ruining everything. Ruining me.
But my goal was finally acquired. Wendy finally reached the milestone - 200k - and that was all that mattered. That meant that I could finally begin with my idea.
First, I took her out to a nice lunch date. We stopped at a library midway, and we picked out a few books for her. Then, I bought her a pretty bouquet of flowers, which she swooned over.
Jackpot.
After, when the sky began darkening and the sun crawling under the sky, we went to a club. One of those cheesy dancing clubs where the music was awful and the drinks were crazy expensive.
But it’s fine. As long as the plan is working.
In the club, I make sure people stay away from the famous social media star. I steer her away from people who seem to recognize her. I order the drinks so she won’t talk to the bartender. I take up a table at the very corner of the booth, where she won’t really be visible and few people walk by.
Thankfully she does not suspect anything. It’s true that influencers are as absent-minded as dementia patients, but as long as it’s working in my favor, I won’t complain.
Once Wendy begins getting drunk and grabbing at my sweatpants, I pay the bill and carry her to the car, where she passes out. I grab her phone from her pocket. Unlock it using her finger.
I go straight to post. My car’s one of the only ones parked alongside the club, which is good.
I lock the doors. Wendy stirs in the backseat. I quickly type and hit post.
Wendy Keller, 11:29pm: Going live in a few minutes guys! Be ready.
Her phone begins blowing up even before I close the app.
With that, I crawl into the backseat. I position the camera so that it shows both of us clearly. I wake Wendy up, and she sits up groggily, her hair a mess and her dress sliding up her thighs.
“What’s going on, Bren?” she asks in a quiet voice, looking outside. She gags. “I think I’m gonna be sick. I shouldn’t have drank that many… um… Bren?”
She notices the camera. I click the “On” button on her Live. Five people join immediately. After a few seconds, the number doubles.
“What’re you-“ Wendy begins, but I slam her face against the backseat. I make sure the camera catches everything. People begin freaking out in the comments.
After a few minutes, after Wendy’s already lost consciousness, I take out my knife from under the seat and demonstrate it to the camera. The knife glints dangerously in the moonlight.
I smile into the phone. “You guys ready to enjoy this unboxing video?”