When I first heard about Snapchat, I did not understand the point. So you can send photos that delete themselves? Why not just text the photo?
Of course at the time I didn't have an iPhone, so I had never used Snapchat, and I rarely took photos. Three years later, Snapchat is a regular means of communication for me. I snap my friends I'm coming over, I story my iced coffee for my 45 followers, and put on lipstick because why not?
It is no secret that Snapchat blew up basically because of sexting. A couple of years ago, sending 600-pixel images of your genitalia was quite the rage for both the hormonal preteen and the horny millennial. Now I'm going to lay it on the table right now: I have never sexted. In fact I have never even taken a picture of my groin, for myself or for the masses. I question those who do because do you really think Uncle Sam, let alone Chinese hackers, aren't watching?
That said, I do send reprehensible messages through Snapchat. I often share my more salty views through the self-deleting app, e.g. screenshots of illiterate people's Facebook posts, confusion over why 23-year-old friends are buying houses, and how I love when couples' selfies don't get any likes on Instagram. I also like to record selfies with my zits accentuated by red circles and random shots of the fabric of a couch with the description "Texture." And then there are the snaps of when coffee cleans my colon in the morning.
Yes, you read me right. I snap people images of my pants at my ankles.
Let's back up: I do not just send this to random people, and I totally understand if you find this disgusting, perverted, and just downright inappropriate. However, a select group of friends and I occasionally exchange Snapchats detailing a tiled backdrop and why did we order spicy Thai last night/drink so much?
I didn't start this game, but I'm now desensitized and partake too. With a select few people. That part is so, so important.
And these snaps are always ambiguous, artsy, and aesthetic, never direct declarations that "I am doing number two," because please, have some couth. And also, I know Big Brother is peeping. I would rather not be asked in an FBI interview if that is my bodily waste (but yeah, those are my bare feet). And what is there really to hide? We all share the human condition.
This brings us to today. My friend and I went running. Actually, we walked because my friend could not maintain the conversation while jogging, and I was more interested in socializing.
Before our faux run, I drank coffee. So halfway through the route, I needed to pee. Phew, I see a porta-potty up ahead. My friend waited while I relieved myself. I took my time because I also had to blow my nose . . . and snap this moment. And wouldn't it be edgy if I included the urinal and maybe a stream of my pee?
Omg, I know it's so disgusting, and I'm cringing as I write it, but I did it, okay? And I sent it to, like, four friends. And then we recommenced running.
Fast forward to eight hours later: I am viewing my Snapchat story like the narcissistic millennial I am. A selfie with my cockatiel. A picture of my friend. And wait - what is that teal and gray background? OMG, it's the porta-potty. OMFG, that's my pee.
I POSTED MY PEE FOR ALL TO SEE ON SNAPCHAT.
Thirty-four people have viewed it. I don't even pause to see who they are. I delete that story and then contemplate how far from grace have I crashed. Thirty-four friends have seen my urine. Thank Gabriel it wasn't the actual exit door! I am so mortified.
I debate posting an apology, but that would draw more attention to what I did. Maybe they didn't notice the subtle stream in the photo's corner; they just wondered why I Snapchatted a portapotty.
I do text my close friends - you know, the innermost circle who would get that Snapchat, story or no story - and one of them replies: "Oh, I saw you did that."
Me: "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?"
Friend: "I thought you did it on purpose."
What do you think I am? An exhibitionist?! This friendship is under evaluation.
All this goes to show, watch what you're Snapchatting. You never know who will see.