The ShartyMarty Phenomenon

(In my head)

One lazy afternoon I ran into this YouTube video titled “Funniest Girl in NYC”. I opened the video, curious about its content and attracted to the image of this genuinely beautiful girl on the front page. 

I start watching and I am incredibly taken away by the beauty and incredibly bubbly personality of this 22 year old, who is genuinely hilarious, intelligent and has a vibe that shouts mystery. Who is this  opinionated and funny princess walking the streets of New York and why do I wish I was her? 

Wearing a white puffy dress and classy jewelry, she resembles the feisty and romantic princess you aspire to be when you’re still stuck at home with a curfew binge watching 10 Things I Hate About You on loop.

Her delicate blue eyes and natural complexion kept me wondering about her life. Who is she? What does she do? Why is she in New York?

As the interview continues, however, something terrible happens: we are given her instagram handle. I would be lying if I said I didn’t look it up immediately: was she going to be an urban-edgy girl, or a funny meme poster? Was I to expect an instagram account that would leave me saying ‘damn, I wish I had her style’ or one that would have me realize ‘wow she could be my friend’? I tried to soak in the anticipation, that feeling of not knowing anything about a person except their mannerisms, sense of humor and laughter with no ulterior performative social media idiosyncrasies.

And when I opened her instagram page, something interesting happened: all my allure to her, my awe for such a genuine personality, was gone. I discovered I had friends who already followed her, who had seen the ShartyMarty video before me.  After accusing this horrible sensation, I started reflecting on what had just happened. I realized my loss of interest in her person had little or nothing to do with the way she presented herself on social media per se. I could still gauge her sense of humor and beauty. But somehow it wasn’t the same. Suddenly, the fact that her infinite presence on my phone screen was one push of a button away stripped me of the joy and interest which that fleeting random encounter on youtube had lent me. 

So I inevitably started wondering. Is social media really killing us? And I am not talking about the scientific, mental-health related talk on how being dependent on a screen can suck away your socializing skills and love for life, or worsen your self-esteem. What I  mean is, do we lose a part of who we really are, to others, when we have an online presence?

Posing for a selfie, polishing it up and uploading it to your instagram is a static attempt at trying to fit in, taking away our built-in charm due to trend repetition and unlimited presence. Perhaps social media is the path to oversharing, to loss of genuine interest for one another while we paradoxically use social media to make us look more interesting - and that’s its true destructive and manipulative power. When we care too much about our social media, people sense it and our charm instantly withers. 

We are there, we are ever present. If you would like to express your interest in someone, you no longer need to gather up the courage and walk up to them at the bar, scared of never seeing them again; now if you know somebody’s name, a conversation, a chance, is just one ‘has replied to your story’ away. The desire for that person is generalized, it is pitched against other similar performative portraits of social media presence. We are not people anymore, we are online concepts.

I loved ShartyMarty, and I still do even after finding her Instagram. But I would have preferred to go to bed each night wondering about that funny girl in New York, not knowing that I could track down each and every thing about her on the internet. 

When did we start enjoying the sinful deed of oversharing?