I still can't believe you walked out of my life and into the Brooklyn night. It took a while for me to even comprehend how and why our relationship could have ended so abruptly. I've been having a hard time gathering my thoughts since you left, but now I'm finally level-headed and sober enough to express how I feel.
Let's start at the beginning. When I first met you at school, I could tell you were very popular. You had the attention of guys and girls alike; everyone wanted you to hang out with them. That led me to believe you were a little high maintenance, but I was only judging from what I saw on the outside. When I finally got a chance to meet you up close and personal, chilling with you made me realize I was mistaken. You did have a cool, almost metallic exterior, but looking deeper I saw how beautiful you were on the inside, which only made me appreciate your stunning good looks even more.
Soon after that first introduction, we became close. Inseparable, even. You would come with me everywhere: class, meetings, dinner, the whole nine. People started to get annoyed since they thought you were taking over too much of my time, especially when I would listen to you while they were trying to tell me something. But I didn't care; you brought me joy, and I never thought that you being with me all the time was anything more than simply indicative of the bond we had. Or so I thought.
I did notice sometimes that things were a little, shall I say, off about you. Sometimes you'd freeze up and not speak to me for hours or even days. During winter, you wouldn't want to rest in my hands if I was wearing gloves (you said you could feel my touch better when I was gloveless). You spoke really really loud sometimes for no reason. But I was willing to put up with it, because I cared about you, and thought you felt the same for me.
Your words were music to my ears, whether in soothing whispers or raucous shouts. When I was down, you always had the right thing to say. If I complained about school or work, you'd patiently remind me that it was nothin' but a G thang. If I ever wanted to give up, you re-affirmed that I was 2 legit 2 quit.
It wasn't just me; my friends actually liked when I brought you with me to parties, because you knew just what to say to make a room light up. You could get parties jumping at the drop of a hat, and entertained countless after-hours with your near-verbatim ability to sing anything you had ever heard. I swear, you were almost a karaoke machine with the way you knew songs.
You were charming, cute, and my friends were even willing to tolerate you (even if they compared you to other models they knew). So why did you have to leave me so suddenly, without even a goodbye? After all these years, after everything we've been through? You were with me when I studied, you cooed lullabies in my ear at night, you drove with me when I moved to Brooklyn, I could go on and on. I thought we'd be together forever, and now I'm writing about how you're gone.
It was so tasteless the way you decided to leave me, by the way. You waited till I got hellaciously drunk with my friends, and decided to come home with me, which you've done countless times. Your moment arrived when I passed out on the Q with you safe in my arms, but that wasn't enough. You met the gaze of another man, and figured the time was right to wander off with him, and leave me drunk, confused, and above all, alone.
You didn't give any warning; you even let me sleep past my stop. You waited until you knew it would be safe to slink away like a coward, and also set it up so that I would blame the homewrecking scum who took you by the hand and walked you with him to Sheepshead Bay. But I blame you: I know you attract wandering eyes, and I didn't do enough to try and curtail it. I left myself exposed for this, and that's what upsets me most. Because the fault isn't yours like I said and once thought; it was mine for being naive and stupid enough to think that you would really stay with me.
I see you for what you are now: a commodity that can be bought and sold (and sometimes stolen) by anyone sleazy enough to try their luck with you. I was robbed of my innocence that night when you left; at least you were kind enough to not rob me of my wallet or cell phone. You disappeared so fast that you left behind the new shiny white necklace I bought you the other day; somehow it was dangling from my body when I came to. That's the only thing I have to remind me that you were ever in my life.
The only reason why I'm so calm is because I've already moved on. I won't even file a missing person's report for you, since I know I'll never see you again. But like I said, I found a better, nicer, slimmer, and overall more awesome model than you this afternoon. Better still, this one is more receptive to being touched (being touched in certain places did nothing for you, or me). Like a commodity, you are easily replaceable. Let's just say like Beyonce, I'm upgrading you to this:
This post is amazingly well-written. I can almost feel the love that you once felt for your Ipod. That's crazy though that it disappeared like that. Wow.
Posted by: Rich Jones | Mar 21, 2008 at 09:28 PM
um, DUH. What's the point, really? That you have kinky relationships with machinery?
Posted by: Emily | Mar 24, 2008 at 10:46 AM