Coming into a new year, I find myself entangled in a new, extremely intense relationship. Cheesy though it may sound, it’s developed into a blistering love affair and I see no way out– not that I’d take it if you showed me the way. If you told me 6 months ago that I’d be caught in such a situation, I’d have scoffed. No way, not me. And yet, here I am… juggling dual lives.
I am, of course, speaking of my Blackberry romance.
The hot, little Blackberry Curve came into my life last June, a Father’s Day gift. When I took it out of the box, it’s reflective titanium surface winked at me– cute buttons begging to be pushed– and already I knew I was in way over my head. Still, it started out innocently enough. I pulled out its manual– as any man would have done!– and unwittingly entered into the dark world of sybaritic cellular fetishism.
I fed its address book with phone numbers, no harm there. But then, other things began to happen. I gave it my email addresses and my hip started buzzing at the most spontaenous moments. No sound was uttered– just an unmistakable tingle letting me know it was there, and had something it wanted to give me.
Soon it showed me how to really google like a wild man. I thought I already was a consummate googler, but I’d always done it in the privacy of my home. Now I was doing it everywhere, all the time– inside, outside, it didn’t matter. No longer was I self-conscious about PDA.
I thought I’d gone about as far I’d ever dare go, but then it plied me with Google Maps. In nothing flat, I was unquestioningly taking directions from it, regardless of how devious or absurd they might be. I didn’t care if I lost my way… as long as it was with me.
Other enticements soon followed– presumably in the event my passion might wane (as if): It kept tabs on all my whereabouts on its calendar. I would find excuses to text, just to feel its willing buttons give in to my commands. Whenever the opportunity arose where we could slip away, it would let me play with its BrickBreaker for hours. Eventually I found myself waking to the gentle cooing of its alarm.
Yeah, you could say I’m one wupped dude. A hopeless case. And when Storm and iPhone commercials come on TV, I reassuringly caress my Curve (sitting on my lap in its cute leather holster) as if to say, “I’m not going anywhere. I LOVE your buttons!” And it would tremble in my hand.
‘Scuse me… Got a call.