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Dear Black-Rimmed Spectacles Guy,

You know we’ve been seeing each other for quite some time, and it’s been great, really, but after several years of being a loyal customer, I have decided to leave you.

Don’t get me wrong, you’re almost always there when I need you, especially lately when I’ve stayed fairly close to the I-80 corridor between San Francisco and my home. You only leave me when I go places like the beach, the lake, work, and that insignificant area between say, Fresno and Los Angeles. I don’t begrudge your disdain of travel.

It’s not that you are a bit extravagant for me, but there was that period when your gift of a new Treo handheld cost me over $2100.00 in “networking” fees because the phone apparently needed to call you every 5 seconds… in all fairness, you did agree that was asking too much and forgave that debt, but only when I raised my voice. I’m sorry about that, by the way.

And it’s not just that we disagree politically, but you do spend an awful lot of money in contributions to Republicans, and very little to Democrats. I commend you on your contributions to Domestic Violence causes, it shows your compassion for women and kids, but I have trouble with the duplicity of making contributions to a war machine, and the kids that are now orphaned because of it.

I guess my major problem is your clingy need for exclusive committment. Seriously, it’s fanatical. I don’t mind the 2 year contract so much, I mean, you need some stability in your life, I get that. What bothers me is that even when we’re together you have to have ALL of my attention. You gave me this really cool phone that you promised me would connect to my laptop with bluetooth, so I could not only synchronize my address books, but would also allow me to connect to the internet if ever I found myself in an area without a wireless router around. You lied to me. The reality is that you blocked the cool features built into the phone, so that I would have to buy extra equipment (that didn’t work) and because you want me to spend even more money on your network, you have blocked the phone’s ability to connect to the internet, and insist that I use the phone’s tiny screen to try and access my email, or a web site.

You also don’t want me chatting with anyone over bluetooth, or sending files, or sharing music, or any of the other technologically advanced things that I know my phone is itching to do. You’re one jealous selfish bitch, you know?

I’m really sorry to tell you that I recently started seeing someone else, you know who. That’s right, that hot little number who always dresses in my favorite color, orange. He gave me this phone yesterday that is quite slick. I brought it home, and I didn’t even feel guilty when I got it turned on and it immediately struck up a conversation with my laptop. It’s not perfect, I have to send my contacts individually until my friends over at Apple get iSync updated, but it does in fact let me get online.

I’m afraid it won’t do any good to beg, because the decision has been made. I’m even getting the rest of my family to break up with you because I’m certain their love affair with you has grown cold, as well.

I wish you luck, and hope you will find it in your uniformed heart to forgive me eventually. It just wasn’t meant to be.

By the way, if you, or anyone you’ve shared this letter with needs my new phone number, drop me a note and I’ll give it to you.