When we entered into a two-year contract with each other a few months ago, I felt so…sure. I took one look at your touchscreen and thought, “Yep. I could tap that on the regular.” It was love at first sight, and I signed on the dotted line without thinking about it. When you're a fool in love, am I right?
You put on a confident front during our first weeks together. You were the life of every party — wherever we went, I couldn’t help but spend the entire evening staring at you, showering you with love taps while ignoring everyone else in the room. How could they compare to you, phone? Their oversharing status updates and psychotic selfies were all at the tips of my fingers, thanks to you — there was nothing that an actual person could offer me that you couldn’t. You shone during those halcyon days, and the nights, too — I remember how content I was falling asleep to your dimmed backlight, gently stroking your face until I lost consciousness. I thought you were all I needed in a phone. But five months in, I’m starting to realize you’re more fragile than a former child star with an absentee publicist.
It began with those little cracks in the corner of your screen. I ignored them for as long as I could — we all have our flaws. But the cracks…they spread. Friends started to worry. “How are you still together? You’re gonna get hurt,” they’d say. Even strangers were concerned. “You need a new screen, or at least some protective duct tape,” a clerk at an electronics kiosk advised. “Like hell I do!” I told him. What did he know about us? But he was right — the damage was done. It was plain to see on your splintered face.
I had to wonder: Isn’t there a phone out there that doesn’t break under pressure, a phone that can handle tough love? You know, a phone made with durable tempered glass as opposed to…fine china or whatever delicate crap you’re made out of? I feel a frustration you’ll never know every time I drop you and have to wonder if this’ll be the last time I drop you. You’re just so…sensitive. You know I’m not an old fashioned girl, but I’ve watched enough motivational Lifetime marathons to say with conviction that I need a real phone, a strong phone. One that can withstand the bumps and scrapes of a turbulent relationship. A ride or die phone, if you will. And you’re not it.
Suffice to say, it’s over. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my commitment to you, and I’ll pay for that — literally, when I break my contract. But like that girl whose Facebook statuses we used to laugh at together always said, you can’t put a price tag on happiness.
Be good. I’ll definitely forget you the second I get a new phone, but it won’t be malicious or anything.
Give a proper send-off to your sad sack of a smartphone on July 27 at the Summer Soaker event that’s being held right here at the Gawker HQ rooftop in partnership with Sony Xperia Z — a colorful and capable phone that's totally wife material. For a chance to attend, tweet a link to your favorite smartphone breakup letter (use this link to vote for the letter you just read, and this one to vote for our first entry) with the hashtag #summersoaker. There will be food, drinks, water guns, and the chance to win a new Sony Xperia Z because, let's face it — you're too young to settle.
Stephanie Georgopulos is the Entertainment Content Producer for Studio@Gawker.