4 min read

It’s around 6 p.m. on Thanksgiving . You’ve just weathered through an awkward dinner table debate with your uncle about his Andrew Tate obsession. You’re still recovering from a high-stress morning that saw your aunt citing your poor onion-dicing skills as the reason you’ll never get married, or had your youngest cousin beating 6-7 jokes to death. The whole day has worn you down and made you temporarily regress to your 17-year-old emotional state. And the only viable path to relief is to detach from the real world entirely and scroll through your phone for some quick dopamine hits.

Then suddenly, it finds you: a “Happy Thanksgiving” message from your most malignant ex-partner/hookup/really intense three-month situationship , who logic would have advised you to block (or mu

See Full Page