For the past couple of months, Mr. D has been dancing around like a nervous puppy in anticipation of our phone upgrades. I, on the other hand, am not so excited. Cell phones and I have this love/hate thing that we just can't get past.
It happens every time. We meet in a crowded store. I cautiously cross the room to get know him better. Promises are made, so many, many promises of how my life will be better, fuller should I let him in. I'm always hesitant, I've been hurt before, but he's so attractive. Pretty things don't ever lie, do they? My fears, while never gone, settle down and I feel like, maybe this time, it will be different.
And for a while it is. Promises made are kept, and I feel more and more at ease. I trust more, so I give more until...
My trust is repaid with a slap to the face. Everything I entrusted to him is gone. He loses everything I gave him, and hides the rest. He lies and tells me he is unable to perform the tasks he had accomplished just weeks, even days before. We go back for help to see if we can repair what we've lost, but all we can do is start over. It's more painful than I can bear. Everything we had is gone. I have to rebuild again, and I decide it just isn't worth it.
I seek comfort in other places, keep dates in other calendars, make notes where he can't get to them, hide contacts where he can never find them. There's no music for us either. We only interact when it's absolutely necessary, and only with contempt. We sleep in different rooms. Eventually, we become comfortable in our dysfunction, we feel we can be happy in spite of our troubles.
Until the day of upgrade.