My first was back in eighty-five. I was married–a new mother at that. Ironically, my husband introduced us. It was raw, intoxicating, overwhelming. We shared stolen moments; stolen thoughts. I saw color in a world that had been black and white. It wasn’t the reason my marriage fell apart, but it certainly contributed.
In ninety-two, newly divorced and anxious to explore my independence, I branched out. During the week, I spent time with old faithful–reliable but somewhat dull. My weekends were another story. I went to places I’d never dreamed of, much less experienced. But with that excitement came a great deal of volatility. One minute things were fine, then without warning, my companion would shut down–completely unresponsive. I juggled both for years but finally had to move on.
I was good until 2006, five years after I tied the knot a second time. I’d started my own business and needed help getting things off the ground. Soon I became infatuated with my help. Smart, well-built, powerful. Those were just a few of the attributes that had my head spinning. Looking back, it was almost inevitable given the amount of time we were spending together. Again my marriage suffered. My husband accused me of being distracted, too busy to spend time with him. I didn’t want to go down that road again, so I pulled back. My interest finally ran its course.
I would like to say I’ve learned to control my passions. But that would be a lie. The fact is, it’s worse now than ever. I’ve got a companion at work and several others that take care of specific needs. I guess you could say I’m fickle, because I find myself constantly moving on to new ones. Fortunately, my husband has resigned himself to the situation and looks the other way. I love him for this because he is my only true love–the one I want to spend my life with. The others are just passing fancies.
It’s probably inappropriate to name names, so I won’t do that. But I will share a little about some of my more memorable companions. That first love back in eighty-five was an AT&T 6300 desktop, with a color monitor no less. It came with a 20 MB hard drive. Believe me, size does matter! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. In ninety-two, my companion was a Sony VAIO with some early volatile version of Windows. It was super sexy but I did become very acquainted with the blue screen. In 2006, it was an HP developer class laptop that helped me with my tennis business. It hummed with power.
These days, I trade in laptops so rapidly that I don’t bother with brand names anymore. Plus I have a Samsung Windows 8 tablet and a Samsung S4 smartphone to handle my special needs. I know these are obsessions, and I should probably stop. But as long as I can afford it, and my husband continues to look the other way, I’ll continue to have my companions on the side.