to my first love

An ode to a dear friend, my beloved Michael.


Ever since my parents gave you to me for a high school graduation gift, I knew we were going to have a long and beautiful relationship. An even better relationship than the one I had with the first laptop my parents gave me for graduation, which died a slow and painful death after being submerged under water for a long period of time.*

Anyway, Michael, you have always been there for me. When I needed to stalk someone via facebook or blogspot. When I needed to read Dooce even though my mom thought she was "inappropriate." Last Sunday, when I beat my father at Celebrity Gossip Trivia, I knew I owed my win to you, and all the hours we spent together browsing celebrity gossip sites.

When I lived in England, and was constantly freezing, I would sleep with you every night, curled around you lovingly as you began to overheat just enough to keep me warm.

It pains me to see you succumb to your addiction to viruses and bugs that make you slow. I know you are jealous of my relationship with your half-cousin, the internet, but that is no reason to make the internet not work. Can't we all just get along? After all we have been through?

I know I have done things to hurt you, darling, and I really am sorry about the diet coke spills on the keyboard, and for not replacing the missing keys that make capitalizing things, as well as typing the letter "d" much easier.

But I fear this is a parting of the ways, Michael. You refuse to function for more than 3 minutes. Sometimes, you cannot be convinced to wake-up at all. Spouseman has tempted me with promises of a new laptop, and even though I know he is just bribing me because he is jealous of our love and wants to get rid of you, I know that it is the right thing to do.


Sleep well, friend.

* so not my fault


~j. said...

I cannot adequately express how much I love that his name is Michael.

Jenny said...

I know this is sad, but I can't not laugh hard, especially at the being cold in England part.

Kimbooly said...

I'm so hurt. I thought you said you loved me.

Perhaps it's time I named my computer. In high school (and even college) I named all my journals and wrote letters to them. And we named our first car Sexy, since the license plates resembled the word. But we haven't named any computers.

Great post, I enjoy how you write love letters to inanimate objects or education institutions. If I ever do that, you'll know who I stole it from. I'm already planning on stealing your asterisk use for post end-notes.

My degree is in teaching (not that I use it to earn real money, just with my kids at home), and I firmly believe in the idea of begging, borrowing, and stealing ideas, rather than attempting to reinvent the wheel. I used to hear that all the time in my studies, that it's a teacher trademark, and I think it's a keeper of an idea.

Lena said...

Haha! I know how you feel about your lappy. I will never feel the same about another portable computer. Avoid the virus's next time, get a Mac.