The Mobile Phone
Inseparable, that was the two of us – and she wouldn’t go anywhere without me. I liked that, but other people would often call us ‘rude’, and our public displays of affection at dinner could lead to the biggest rows. Sometimes even she found me too much, making me leave the room when she was watching TV – which was fair, because tbh she never managed to take in more than five minutes of a film when I was around.
That’s not to say our relationship wasn’t volatile – she could silence me with just one touch and she’d often ignore my calls, muttering ‘shut up.’ Mainly though, she’d just stare at me and refuse to answer. I guess what we had was more about chemistry and less about conversation; and at night we’d sit up for hours in bed – her eyes constantly upon me, as I tried to impress her with silly jokes and profoundly deep quotes. She wouldn’t say much then, but simply hold me.
But when she did talk, she could talk for hours – on all manner of subjects, pouring out her heart or simply recounting one or other silly detail of her day. And I loved to listen to her, even when all she wanted to talk about was what type of potato she ought to buy. I wish now that I could remember it all, but I couldn’t possibly take it all in, and sometimes it felt like there was only so much space in my heart to hold onto our memories.
Of course, some images are embedded in my mind – such as a photo of her laughing on the beach – but other things, no matter their importance, I simply didn’t have room for. That used to really piss her off, just as it did when I’d get tired and switch off. I regret doing that now; and, I’ll admit, I did it more and more as our relationship developed. After a year and a half I got the feeling she was thinking about an upgrade – and yet I couldn’t change. The cracks started to show –the façade was shattered. And finally one day, after two wonderful years, she jacked me in for a newer model. It was like she had simply compartmentalised me in her mind and put me away in a drawer– not quite discarded, but quickly forgotten, a back up of sorts, to whom she’ll never return.
HER: I spend way too much time on my phone.