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Droid: A Love Story

Remember when we were young?  You would pick up the phone, stick your finger into the dial and turn it.  Calling a friend was a workout compared to today's technology.  Your friend would answer and you'd get together and hang out.  Chatting away like crazy until you left.  Many times you'd return home and call that same person up and talk even more on the phone.  Wow, how things have changed.

Now you text five friends and hope that someone meets you out.  Once out, you chat lightly, all the while, checking your phone for messages from people you aren't with. It's disgraceful. I am guilty of it too, so I am not judging.  The other night, while laying in bed, recovering from my weekend of debauchery. I was checking my phone. People were saying hello on Facebook to each other and were in the same restaurant.  What have we become?  Sure it's funny, but have we gotten to the point where a 10-step walk to say hello is too difficult?  How is it that we find it acceptable to say hello via technology instead of a handshake or a tap on the shoulder.  I fear that we have lost the ability to socialize the way we used to.  Sure, we go out, laugh and get into debates, but all the while we're checking our phones for some other stimulation.

The other night while discussing who was the greatest quarterback of all-time, the conversation quickly turned, as it must, to Internet porn.  I made a comment about how porn on your phone is so much greater, because on that tiny screen the guy's cock isn't that big. Porn stars scare me.  Not for any other reason than I worry someone I might become intimate with might have seen John Holmes, Ron Jeremy, Peter North or any other of the wonderful actors who have units that resemble a baby's arm holding an apple. How can I, er measure up? (Did I go overboard by naming three male porn stars?)  Anyway, it is my feeling that phones will eventually make their way into the bedroom. I feel that sooner or later, you'll meet someone online, you'll get into separate beds and text (or sext as the kids say) instead of sharing tender moments while handcuffed to a bed post yelling through a ball gag.

I recently entered the new era of cell phones when I lost my piece of shit Versa and acquired a Droid. I didn't get the newest model and I'm somewhat thankful.  I can't imagine having a better phone with more gadgets and gizmos.  I might spontaneously combust.  The damn thing chooses words for me.  OK, sometimes it picks the wrong word, but hey, sometimes I'm just in the mood for a sovereign donut.  I love my Droid. I love the fact it says "Droid" in a robotic voice, I love that it's not a half an ounce and it's dependable. I sleep with the fucking thing for Christ sake.  I don't mean in an intimate way.  My Droid has never been to me what gerbils are to Richard Gere, but I woke up to find it covered in saliva.  God I hope that was saliva!  I do take comfort in it being by my side.  I'm a single male and anything that can tell me the time, let me talk when I want to, let me know the score of the game, beats me in chess and has the ability to watch Laurence Fishburne's little girl having sex, all while I'm sitting at a bar talking to friends is something I can't live without.  I can do without food, shelter, and clothing (although many out there are happy I have some), but I can not live without the one love of my life.  My Droid!

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