One day in early November I strolled home along Tompkins Square Park in Manhattan’s East Village, eagerly clutching the Verizon Bag that held my new Blackberry Pearl. Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, wonderful Birthday all to me, I thought, swinging my bag like the blueberry girl on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. (What was her name?) Anyway, who needs chocolate when you have an orgasmic masterpiece of technology designed for yes, work, but also fun, fun, fun.

I was so delightedly planning its setup that I didn’t notice three guys, mid-to-late twenties, come up next to me until they struck up conversation. “You look like you’re thinking hard about something,” one said. And I was. I was thinking, “What the hell is this guy doing imposing on my last few steps to bettered technology?”  But wait, he was cute. Really cute.

The Bob Dilemma

Said guy, we’ll call him Bob, asked me to join them for a few beers. When I earnestly told Bob I needed to set up my new phone he argued that it was the lamest excuse and harshest shutdown he’d ever been dealt. I started to think… what if he was right and my new technology had hurdled me into social incompetence? Did I just really forego tall dark and handsome for small cold and metal? (Ahem. I am talking about my bb pearl here.)

I joined him for that beer. I listened half heartedly about how he did some kind of draft marketing for the NFL. I like football and I should’ve been able to chat this up, but my head wasn’t in the game. I was hopelessly fantasizing about my new equipment, debating what sort of headphones I would buy, and if I would dish it out for that Bluetooth set I saw online. And he could tell. Even when he walked me to my door, we both knew I would rather have passed the evening with my electronic device.

Machine: 1, Man: 0

I rationalized that Bob would probably have made me cry down the line—he’d lie or be inattentive, too obsessive, or jerkface-ish in general. How long could it have lasted? Not as long as my pearl.  And there I was–the 21^st century girl with a hunk (of technology) that would treat me as I programmed it to.