She typed back: Exactly.
Chloe stared at the screen. The ice cream had melted hours ago. boyfriend free
The app had a new notification: You are now boyfriend-free. Would you like to upgrade to “feeling-free”? No more longing. No more loneliness. No more love. One-time offer. She typed back: Exactly
"Boyfriend free" was the name of the app, and Chloe had downloaded it at 2 a.m. on a Tuesday, half-laughing, half-crying into a pint of salted caramel ice cream. The app had a new notification: You are now boyfriend-free
The premise was simple: you swipe on men, but instead of matching for romance, you matched for the void they left behind. A guy who ghosted you after three perfect dates? Swipe right, and the app would ensure you never saw him at a coffee shop or mutual friend’s party again. An ex who still liked your Instagram posts from two years ago? Erased from your algorithm. A situationship who sent mixed signals? The app would filter his number out of your phone—no block, no drama, just a clean, quiet disappearance.
But then she noticed something strange. The app had a hidden feature: a small counter in the corner that read Freedoms granted: 12 . Below it, in fine print: Each swipe right transfers a small portion of your emotional bandwidth to the app’s servers. For research purposes.
She thought about Jake’s laugh. Marcus’s stupid joke about the raccoon in the trash can. The grocery store stranger’s eyes—she couldn’t even picture them anymore.