My first significant relationship started in 2008. My memory is extremely hazy, but I seem to remember that the morning after, the following things definitely happened: we sat in bed and speculated whether the collapse of Lehman Brothers might precipitate some kind of global financial crisis, while listening to The Ting Tings and Scouting for Girls. After discussing the solidity of Brangelina, and crazily wondering whether Tory leader David Cameron would one day be accused of having sex with a pig’s face, we kissed and I departed. Oh, and this part I actually remember really well: we became friends on Facebook that day, too.
It was a cute moment, at a time when Facebook could itself be legitimately described as cute. Back then, there was a delightful naivety to the way people used social media. We treated each other the way young lovers treat each other. People tried to see the other person’s point of view. We were all polite, optimistic, and generally kept things light, easy and breezy. Back then, there was a spate of weddings off the back of people meeting via these platforms. Not just young people but oldies, too – a phenomenon riffed on by BBC One’s Last Tango in Halifax, the Sally Wainwright drama about seventysomethings finding love online. Yet even though it only dates back to 2012, you couldn’t hang a show on that innocent premise today.
