This afternoon, my mom plopped a laptop on top of my AP Politics book and pointed at her screen.

“Look at this recipe,” she said, tapping a picture of a fennel-and-orange-steamed chicken breast that could have made a vegan’s mouth water. “Sound good for dinner tonight?”

I nodded and pulled the computer closer for a better look at the glimmering orange slices topping the piece of edible art. And that’s when I saw it–the loopy red logo laughing at me from the top of the page.

Pinterest.

Slapping my hands over my eyes, I yelped, “Take it away! Away!”

“Okay, sheesh–I’ll find another recipe,” Mom harrumphed.

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, still covering my eyes. “It looks delicious.”

“That explains why you don’t want to look at it.”

“The chicken is fine. The chicken is great. The website is not. It is not great, Mom.”

“Did Pinterest break up with you?” she asked with mock concern.

I rolled my eyes, but since they were still hidden behind my palms, she saw only a silent twitch of my head. It is a well-known and well-satirized fact within my family that my longest-lasting relationship has been with that aesthetically attractive social media site of pins known as Pinterest. That’s why I have a board called “Cupcakes are Better than Boyfriends.”

“Pinterest didn’t break up with me,” I grumbled through my hands. “I broke up with Pinterest. I thought I would be better off without it.”

Through my fingers, I could see Mom rolling her eyes. I am my mother’s daughter.

“And are you?” she asked. “Better off without it?”

I sighed.

“We’re getting back together on Saturday.”

In other news, the chicken was delicious.