The opinions expressed in this column are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Chicago News Weekly.
“Congratulations! I remember you got married.”
“Girl... and divorced.”
That conversation has happened to me more than once this summer.
There’s something about a Chicago summer that turns the whole city into one big class reunion. You run into old coworkers, former neighbors, people you went to church with, friends of friends, and folks you haven’t seen in five or even 10 years. Between neighborhood festivals, concerts, block parties, and community events, it’s almost impossible not to reconnect with someone from another chapter of your life.
What I’ve noticed, though, is that social media has changed the way we have those reunions. We don’t start by asking, “So, what’s new?” We start where we think we left off.
It made me realize something I hadn’t really thought about before. In the social media era, we don’t necessarily remember people’s lives. We remember the last chapter they published.
For some people, that’s a wedding. For others, it’s an engagement, a new baby, a first home, or a graduation. Sometimes it’s something much heavier, like the loss of a loved one. Whatever that last major post was, that’s where our minds press pause until we see them again.
This has happened to me enough times that I’ve developed an opinion. Again, this is my opinion.
If your relationship begins loudly and publicly, don’t be surprised when people assume they’re still reading the story you started. Celebrities are probably the most exaggerated version of this phenomenon.
Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck turned their reunion into one of Hollywood’s biggest love stories. Twenty years after calling off their first engagement, they found their way back to one another, married in 2022, and reminded an entire generation that maybe timing really is everything.
Then, after months of speculation, Lopez filed for divorce in 2024. The public eventually learned the marriage had ended, but only after months of missing wedding rings, separate appearances, and internet detectives trying to piece the story together.
Then there’s Will and Jada Pinkett Smith. Whether you love them or roll your eyes every time they make headlines, one thing is true: they’ve invited the public into many deeply personal conversations over the years. We watched Red Table Talk. We listened to discussions about marriage, parenting, healing, family, and yes, even entanglements. Then came the 2022 Academy Awards, when Will Smith walked onstage, slapped Chris Rock, returned to his seat, and famously shouted for him to keep his wife’s name out of his mouth.
At the time, most of us believed we were watching a husband defending his wife within a traditional marriage. It wasn’t until Jada’s memoir was released in 2023 that she revealed they had actually been living separate lives since 2016.
Looking back, it’s remarkable to realize we’d been invited into so many rooms, heard so many deeply personal conversations, and somehow weren’t in that group chat. They had every right to keep that private. That’s not my point.
Once you’ve repeatedly invited people into your relationship, don’t be surprised when people are confused about where the story went. We don’t need the screenshots. We don’t need the court documents. We certainly don’t need anyone’s private pain. But if you’ve made us honorary guests at every milestone leading up to the wedding, it’s understandable that people assume the marriage is still intact until they hear otherwise.
If I’ve loaned you an accumulated 37 minutes of my life between the proposal video, the bridal blog, the engagement shoot, the wedding countdown, the anniversary carousel, the gender reveal, and the vacation reels, at least give me a heads-up before I run into you on Michigan Avenue congratulating you on a marriage that quietly ended two years ago. I’m not asking for a press conference. A relationship-status update would be sufficient.
As funny as these awkward encounters can be, psychologists say social media has fundamentally changed the way we experience relationships and breakups. A study published in Computers in Human Behavior in November 2025 found that repeatedly checking an ex-partner’s social media was associated with greater breakup distress and jealousy.
Earlier research published in 2012 reached a similar conclusion, finding that people who remained connected to former partners on Facebook reported more longing, greater emotional distress, and less personal growth after a breakup.
In other words, relationships don’t simply end anymore. Years ago, people separated, moved on, and eventually disappeared from one another’s daily lives. Today, the relationship may be over, but the algorithm keeps serving up anniversary memories, vacation photos from four summers ago, and suggested posts featuring someone you’ve spent months trying to forget.
Researchers at Pew Research Center have also found that social media creates new pressures within relationships themselves. In a 2020 report, nearly one in four partnered adults said a partner’s interactions on social media had made them feel jealous or uncertain about their relationship. Among adults ages 18 to 29, that number rose to about one in three.
Love already requires communication, trust, forgiveness, and patience. Social media adds likes, comments, disappearing stories, read receipts, public expectations, and the pressure to make happiness look effortless.
I also recognize there’s another side to this conversation. Maybe people aren’t trying to deceive anyone. Maybe they’re simply trying to survive one of the hardest seasons of their lives. Ending a relationship is painful enough without feeling obligated to make a public announcement. I can appreciate that.
At the same time, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to acknowledge the strange position social media has created. When you’ve invited people to celebrate the beginning, they’re naturally going to assume the story continued unless you tell them otherwise.
Maybe that’s where I’ve landed after all of these awkward conversations this summer. I don’t think people owe the public access to the most painful moments of their lives. I do, however, think we should be a little more thoughtful about how much of the beginning we choose to make public. Perhaps we don’t need louder breakups. Perhaps we need quieter beginnings.
Not because love should be hidden, and not because happiness shouldn’t be celebrated, but because relationships deserve the opportunity to become real before they become public programming.
Years ago, if you hadn’t seen someone in five years, you expected their life to have changed. Today, social media tricks us into believing we’re current on everyone’s story. The reality is that we’re often reading an old chapter and mistaking it for the ending.
The next time someone congratulates you on a marriage that quietly ended years ago, remember this: they’re probably not being intrusive. They’re simply reading the last chapter you published.