Mother Teresa is employed by Snapchat.

That’s a joke, but it’s true that Snapchat has fostered a civil, meaningful friendship between my long-term ex and me. While this may sound extremely superficial and millenial, our friendship is pretty much bound by Snapchat’s “streak” feature. The thing is, our streak stands at approximately an astounding 800 days, which you can’t look me in the eye and say is unimpressive. Needless to say, celebrating this digital-age symbol of commitment is what keeps us at peace with one another. This streak has survived through hospital stays, family deaths and, of course, our breakup. At this point, though, keeping the streak is essentially a game. And we have mastered it.

I recently awoke one morning to discover a series of angry texts from said civil-ex. I opened my phone, gawking at what appeared on my screen: his Snapchat username and a chicken emoji, my preferred “friend” symbol. No number. No flame. The streak died, and I killed it.

Rewinding to the previous morning, I looked terrible and neglected to contribute to the streak. After all, the number one rule of Snapchat is that you don’t snap your ex when you look like garbage. My appearance was acceptable just before I went to bed, but I ended up falling asleep on my phone watching horrible YouTube videos of Larry David. My selfishness and egomania ultimately destroyed something that was so important to us; something I nurtured like a baby chick waiting to hatch.

I frantically apologized, anxiously wondering where this disaster would take us. You’d think that after all we’ve been through, a social media construct would be a minor component of our friendship, but now, in college, our streak is what primarily keeps us in contact and has become a humorous representation of our competitive natures.

Jokingly, I suggested he contact their customer service, but I guess my sarcasm didn’t translate through text because next thing I knew he was emailing Snapchat, pleading they restore our streak. He received from customer service representative Theresa. After all, at 9 a.m. on a Monday morning, what better task does Theresa from Snapchat’s HQ have to do? Edit that dancing hot dog filter? I don’t think so.

Moments passed, and after what felt like hours but was literally seven minutes, our savior responded to the “Snapstreak Restore Request” email which we personally typed up. Theresa, perhaps Mother T(h)eresa herself, provided us with what she called “one-time courtesy,” and restored the streak, restoring our friendship.

In the past, I have made hideous fun of the obnoxiously cute filters teenager girls in particular don in their profile pictures and avatars online, but now, I celebrate them. Snapchat is a fine establishment with fine people manning its reigns. Our world needs more Theresas; more people who will take time out of their busy Monday mornings to give hope to two pathetic, digitally-addicted pals for life. Theresa, I thank you.

Sophia Yakumithis is a first-year history major who also serves as The Observer’s News Editor.