I Shouldn't Be Here: Parallels of "Your House" and the Age of Stexing

*A brief note before reading: I recognize that the occurrence of actual online stalking or cyberstalking--that of unwanted attention and harassment online by a former lover, acquaintance, or stranger--is very real, and can be very traumatizing.  If this is happening to you or someone you know, please seek help and support.  You can find more information here and here*


I first heard "Your House" off of Alanis Morrisette's "Jagged Little Pill" well over 15 years ago as a teenager in my friend's bedroom.  After having listened to the major tracks of the album, the hidden track didn't hit me with any intensity at the time, possibly due to my own naivete about the tumultuous and dangerous compulsions of love and attraction.  However, yesterday morning, as I scrolled through my social media newsfeed, I happened upon an article mentioning the album's 20th anniversary.  I allowed myself to enter the raw and intense song once again, not realizing at the time that I might as well have expected to walk through fire unscathed.

I wasn't prepared, even with the explicit warning of the article itself, since I merely thought it was more internet hype to be ignored.  The song is already uncomfortable in the explicitness of the lyrics--or more accurately, the explicitness of the act being carried out--yet it is also uncomfortable because of the familiarity of strong, unrequited desire.  It is quite possible that this is all a scenario being played out in the singer's mind, and that she hasn't actually chosen to violate the physical boundaries of her desired lover.  

All the same, I felt ripped open by the song's conclusion, and cried tears of recognition.  On some level, I identified with the lyrics, but not because I had ever done those things--not in any physical way.  However, upon further reflection, I could not help but think about the parallel that could be drawn between the act of entering someone's physical house with that of entering someone's virtual house (i.e. their online existence).  

Much has been written about--somewhat seriously, somewhat satirically--the online "stalking" of one's ex, or as I like to call it, "stexing."  It has become a norm that no one really likes to admit to doing, and yet most people seem to engage in, especially in the first stages of a breakup.  We know it's not good for us, and there's even proof that it can inhibit our ability to move on with our lives (see linked articles above).  And yet, we still do it, albeit in varying degrees of intensity.

I went to your house
Walked up the stairs
I opened your door without ringing the bell
I walked down the hall
Into your room
Where I could smell you
And I shouldn't be here, without permissionI shouldn't be here

Google, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, etc. have become both the unlocked door and the house(s) in which we live.  (Also, I did wonder why the door in the song was unlocked in the first place.  Then I realized that it could be because Morrisette is from Canada.)  We go into our exes' "rooms", smelling out their presence, smelling out the clues of their lives.  And we know we shouldn't.  Not because we don't have permission--we DO have tacit permission due to the permissiveness of the web (save private or even blocked profiles).  We know we shouldn't engage in stexing because it drives us further into our own personal hell, and it takes more than it gives.  Still, we live for those bits (or bytes?) of cyber crumbs because we get that jolt, that bit of fuel we need to keep the flame of hope burning, no matter how false that hope may be.   

I took off my clothes
Put on your robe
I went through your drawers
And found your cologne
Went down to the den
Found your CD's
And I played your Joni
And I shouldn't stay long, you might be home soon
I shouldn't stay long

We already spend countless hours on our computers--at work, on our way to work and home, and at home.  The internet is our world, the facets of our profiles--status updates, tweets, pins--are our drawers and cd's (or vinyl, if you so choose).  Stexing is yet another time suck--and we shouldn't stay long.  But maybe it's because of the anonymity, or the appearance of anonymity, that allows us to relax into the rut of emotional stagnation for countless, indeterminate periods of time.  There's no one to watch for to come in through the door and discover us in the midst of our online rummaging.

But then the flame of hope turns to an inferno, and we get burned.

I burned your incense
I ran a bath
I noticed a letter that sat on your desk
It said "Hello love, I love you so love, meet me at midnight"
And no, it wasn't my writing
I'd better go soon
It wasn't my writing

So forgive me love
If I cry in your shower
So forgive me love
For the salt in your bed
So forgive me love
If I cry all afternoon

That moment when you see your ex's relationship status change.  When your mouth goes dry, the lump forms in your throat, the heart drops to stomach and stomach falls to your feet, as you see their profile picture change from just them to them with someone else...who isn't you.  Or when you see a status update that tags your replacement, paired with words of love and affection.  Or you see them pin a quote about love that is exactly how you felt (or maybe even still feel) about them, and realize it's about their love for their partner.

Time to go.  You haven't been found out, but you have just found out more than you bargained for, and it's hard not to feel exposed.  All of your flights of fancy wither in the light of reality, and you are left feeling empty, dried up, used.  Nothing a good cry in the shower won't alleviate.  Until the next time.