INTERNET Astrology, step aside, because there’s a new personality diagnosis disrupting people’s sleep patterns, and no, it’s not Mercury in retrograde. It’s Rebecca Syndrome, and it’s making your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriends spend more screen time than your relationship will ever see.
Taken from the idea of Daphne du Maurier’s 1938 fiction ghostwife Rebecca — in which the present Mrs. de Winter fixates on her dead husband’s former sweetheart — this syndrome is essentially a mental spin-off series called Keeping Up with the Ex-tashians. But with less Kardashians and more sobbing in the shower at 3 a.m.
Psychologists refer to it as retroactive jealousy, but the Internet refers to it as a deep dive into your boyfriend’s 2015 vacation pictures. Contemporary sufferers of Rebecca Syndrome are not tormented by literal ghosts, only their partner’s former loves, who seem suspiciously good in filtered sunset photographs. From swiping through tagged photos to cracking comment emojis like spies from the CIA, these romantically primed detectives are out to solve the nasty truth… that the ex was actually hot, actually cool, and maybe French-fluent.
The syndrome has hit TikTok and YouTube like a breakup anthem on loop. Every scroll brings another “5 Signs You’re Secretly Obsessed With Your Boyfriend’s Ex” video, featuring emotional advice that ranges from “focus on yourself” to “burn his high school yearbook.”
Thanks to Instagram, we now have completely chronicled proof of our partner’s existence before us, which, honestly, ought to be against the law. “I just needed to see who he took to prom,” whispers a tear-stained 28-year-old, “and next thing I know, I’m in deep with a 2013 album called Forever Us <3.” Nobody is safe.
And the manosphere? Oh boy, they’ve Rebecca’d it right into trouble, applying it as yet another reason to shame women for being emotional. “See? Women be crazy,” they yell, as they also use burner accounts to harass their ex’s new fiancé. Classic.
Experts say the syndrome isn’t just about the past, it’s about comparison culture, where everyone online looks like they came out of a Vogue dream sequence, and you’re sitting there in week-old pajamas trying to emotionally compete with someone named Tanya, who once dated your boyfriend and also volunteers with puppies.
So, what’s the cure? Delete Instagram? Close your eyes and chant “I’m the main character.”? Maybe. But the real fix is probably reminding yourself that Rebecca is fictional, and you’re not living in a Victorian haunted manor, you’re just trapped in an algorithm-fed cycle of doom-scrolling your insecurities.
So the next time you’re tempted to stalk, take a deep breath, shut down the app, and recall: you’re the one your partner chose not the specter of exes past.
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