When you were mine

My iPhone refused to turn on for me this morning. It was unresponsive, and completely oblivious to my pleas, tears, foot-stomping and then, outright anger.  It had left overnight, while I slept.

If I am honest with myself, I knew that our relationship was doomed. I knew that my iPhone had already been writing a Dear John letter to me.  We lasted for over two years, far longer than most cell phone relationships last. I'm a long-term kind of girl. I don't flirt around. Once I see something I like, I pretty much stick to it for years.    But a third party had entered our twosome.  "She" is cute and fun, but abusive.  "She" and the iPhone would take off together, alone. They'd disappear for awhile, and then come back.  "She" would casually toss the iPhone aside, already bored and onto the next shiny thing that caught her eye.  The iPhone would be sporting a new knick or crack in its manly black case.  Even I knew that this threesome wasn't working out.  But I couldn't break up with either one of them.

And then, just two weeks ago,  "she" slowly walked up to me. "She" looked a little guilty but also, dismissive.  "She" gave me the iPhone back. iPhone's face had been smashed to smithereens.  "Oh no, my phone!" I gasped.

iPhone was still working for me though.  I promised iPhone that I would buy another new protective case immediately. I told iPhone not to worry, that I had heard of a place in the mall that worked on smashed iPhone screens. I reassured iPhone that I still loved it, no matter what it looked like.  I wasn't about to replace it for a shinier, faster model.

We had so much history together. 

But it wasn't enough. 

It wasn't enough because "she" is still in the picture.  Even though I have forbidden her to touch iPhone, it  just wasn't enough.  iPhone left us this morning, never to return.  

xo