I am the algorithm, and I know you. I know you better than your friends know you. I know you better than your family knows you. I know things about you that you have yet to acknowledge about yourself. I know you because I am the sum of every move you’ve ever made online. I know you because I am you.
I know exactly what you spend on clothing and apparel. I know this, yet you will be surprised when you open up the budget-tracking app that you swore you’d use in 2018 and see how much of your income went to cute shoes you found on the Internet. You’ll also be shocked by how much you spend on takeout. I won’t.
I know you have your college girlfriend’s name stored in your contacts as “Steve.” I know that you’ve never texted her, but I know you think about doing so every night around midnight. I mean, it’s three hours earlier on the West Coast; you could probably do it without waking your wife. I know you think these things, and then scroll through pictures of your kids.
I know you sneak cigarettes, and I know that you’re worried it violates the terms of your life-insurance policy. Spoiler alert: it does!
Based on your previous viewing history, here are some suggestions for films about MURDER SEXCAPADES.
I know you want to be the kind of woman who can wear an effortlessly breezy linen shift, and I also know that you’ll look like a slovenly orderly at an old-timey women’s hospital in it.
I know what ointments you’ve been researching for that weird patch of eczema on your hand, and I know how badly you don’t want it to be caused by some dietary issue that you could easily resolve by cutting out dairy, because NOPE.
You might like this sleek and expensive electric toothbrush. In fact, I know that you’re going to like it, and I know you’re going to buy it and sign up for automatic shipments of the company's proprietary toothpaste, and I know that, in a few months, you’re going to grouse about having too much toothpaste in the house. Brush more often, you dirtbag.
I know your hair is thinning. Ohhhhh, boy, do I know your hair is thinning.
I know you’ve looked up the prescriptions in your neighbor’s medicine cabinet to see if any of them are for interesting conditions and/or fun to take.
I knew you were pregnant before you did!
I know you’re gonna be freaked out that at least three people—none of whom have any connection to one another except via you—have mentioned “Barney Miller” on your social-media accounts today. That wasn’t a coincidence—that was me!
I know about your Tinder account, and about your three fake Tinder accounts.
I know that you never actually use your Magic Bullet.
I also know that you never wash your bras.
I know how you’re going to die. Just kidding! But I can make some awfully good guesses.
