As I sit down to write this, I’m experiencing a vague urge to log on and check Twitter. Luckily for me, I can’t. Last year, I asked my then-fiancé to change the password to my Twitter account and keep the new log-in information from me. It was among the best and most life-changing decisions I’ve made, though not quite as life-changing as the decision to marry him.
I’ve had a Twitter account for almost exactly ten years. I opened the account at the urging of my high-school friends shortly before we graduated, back when many more people used Twitter the way they use Instagram today: to share random thoughts and experiences for the benefit of their very few followers. It hadn’t yet fully morphed into the go-to spot for news and commentary, displacing blog culture and becoming a place where politicians, pundits, and celebrities are expected to have something to say all the time about everything — a culture that, unsurprisingly, results in many people saying uninformed, incendiary, and entirely unnecessary things.
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