Every computer we've ever owned has slowly but surely entered into a common law marriage with my husband. At first Larry just admires the computer's capabilities from afar. But then the two of them start spending time together. Nothing serious at first, maybe a little emailing over lunch. Until he realizes that his feelings are growing stronger. The computer is so there for him. Makes him feel young again. Like he can do anything! He's never felt so alive!!
Pretty soon I'm just the burdensome first wife, nagging to see the laptop on weekends--not just holidays.
Last week Larry wanted me to share in his excitement when he installed his new $39 (after mail-in rebate!) drum software with over "30,000 unique drum loops" because it meant he wouldn’t have to buy that $300 drum machine after all. I cringed. Now, not only is my computer not my computer, it's a recording studio, with a gaggle of wires spilling out of every orifice. I don't dare touch it. There are cymbals where the mouse should be.
And did I mention he saves everything to the desktop? Everything. New software? It's on the desktop. Extensions? Plug ins? On the desktop! Science projects for his chemistry class? On the desktop. Every song he's ever recorded, every novel and short story he's ever written? They're all right there! On the desktop. For anyone to see. I want to scream, “Get a room!”
Sometimes, when he's not home, I sneak in and organize all his files into folders. I leave those folders on the desktop, because I still love him, and I want him to be happy. I click through our family photos and pretend everything is the way it used to be.
Some nights, I'll drink a glass of wine, and another. I can't help myself. I pick up the phone and dial. When the computer answers, I wait a few seconds, and hang up.
Take that, home wrecker.