How to break up with your cell phone

 cell phone yelling

Dear Android,
Now that we’ve had time apart, I realize how much time I’ve wasted with you. In the beginning, I thought I was having fun, exploring new things… and I was so enthralled by you – your sexy features, your impressive abilities. You seemed to have the world at your fingertips.

I’ve come to depend on you the past few years, and I loved it at first, but then I realized how overbearing you are – always popping up to tell me what to do and when to do it, whom to speak to, even snooping my internet history and my whereabouts. I told myself that was the price for being with a “smart” one, rather than an old-fashioned type who was nice to talk with, but didn’t offer much else.

But now I wonder if those unexciting types are so bad. With you, I barely talk at all. A couple of hours of intense conversation and you shut down, needing time away from me to “recharge.”

You say you’re not controlling, but you often cut me off while I’m speaking and try to disrupt conversations with my friends – even prevent me from having contact with them. In the end, I have dropped many of them because of you.

When we chat, you don’t really hear me, but then you pass your ridiculous misinterpretations on to my friends. No wonder it seems like I “don’t make sense” to them anymore.

Sometimes you even call them behind my back. I don’t believe you when you say you meant to call someone else, or didn’t call anyone at all. How do you explain the phone bill? Ghost calls? Phones don’t accidentally dial themselves, you know.

It’s nearly impossible to get a straight answer out of you. Every time I think I’ve figured you out, you change, and I have to learn how to figure you out all over again. You’re so complex on the inside, but have such a fragile exterior.  I’d almost dropped you several times in the past, but I knew you’d likely either crack or explode.

But I’ve got your number – and so do the friends I have left.

I’ve grown tired of your unpredictability – you give me the silent treatment for no reason, then embarrass me by going off at the most inappropriate moments. You seem to change your tone with no reason at all.

And when I need you most, it seems, you disappear for hours or days at a time. Trying to call you is useless.

Then you turn up out of nowhere and want to take me on one of your infantile man-ventures – car racing, or gambling, or hunting. Yes, hunting. I know you’re big on word games – but “slingshotting birds” is no better than shooting deer. Well, I’m done playing your games. Even if I win, what good does it do me? The time I spend playing games with you I should be spending with friends.

And don’t even get me started on sleeping together. So often I turn you on and you seem ready to go, but then you run out of juice in the middle of things. Or I awaken to wonder where you are, and find you plugged into something in another room. Believe me, my friends think it’s weird that I sleep next to you at all, but I’m now learning that it’s easier to wake up without you going off at me each morning with the same obnoxious noise.

I had the opportunity to replace you several months ago, but decided to hold on, believing your promise that a better version of you was on the way.

But I don’t believe that is around the corner. And even if it is, there are plenty of other options that will fit with my two-year life plan. Who knows? I may play the whimsical bachelorette, with a new companion every couple years – someone younger, sharper, slimmer, and faster – internally complex yet simple to understand, with a better memory and sexier features.

As for you, I know you aren’t exactly trash, and I shouldn’t treat you as such, but consider yourself dropped — ironic, isn’t it? Don’t worry – I’m sure there’s a teenage retail assistant at the mini-mall who would be happy to take you in as a fixer-upper. I’m sure she will help you erase all memory of me.

PS — I’ll admit, at least you’re not corrupt like my last computer-obsessed boyfriend, Dell.

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