A Love Letter

Wrong Places

“A Love Letter to the Inanimate Objects More Reliable Than My Love Life”

Sometimes I still reach for you in the quiet, forgetting that you’re just my phone and you can’t actually hug me back.

But honestly? You’ve been more consistent than most people in my life, so let’s call it even.

Look, I’m not saying I have attachment issues, but I’m also not not saying that. I’m like the Dominican Republic of emotional stability – everything looks great for a few days, maybe even a week, and then suddenly I’m like “wait, when did all these problems get here?” But my inanimate objects? They don’t judge. They just show up.

My Coffee: The Real Morning Person

Before I can talk to anyone, before I can think about emails, before I can even consider being a functioning human – there’s coffee. Not just any coffee, but MY coffee, made exactly the way I need it, sitting in the same spot on my desk like a tiny liquid therapist that costs less than a blunt.

My coffee has seen me at my worst. Crashing out over a Teams Chat. Celebrating because I finally figured out a bug. Does it care? No. Does it still taste good? Absolutely. That’s loyalty.

My Laptop: The Friend Who Actually Listens

My laptop knows more about me than most people. It’s seen every weird 5am Google search (“can you strain a muscle from sitting too long” yes, yes you can). It’s held all my passwords, my incomplete ToDo tasks, the unfinished projects and my crazy attempts at budgeting.

Sure, it’s slow sometimes. Sure, the battery life is basically a joke at this point. But it’s there. It doesn’t cancel plans. It doesn’t leave me on read. When I open it up, it’s like “hey, welcome back, here’s exactly where you left off, including those 47 tabs you refuse to close.”

My Workspace: The Only Boundary I Can Actually Maintain

You know what’s great about my workspace? It stays where I put it. My desk, my chair that I spent too much money on because “lumbar support,” my specific arrangement of pens I never use and the new addition, a book, 28 Commandments by Andrew Kibe.

This is the only space in my life where I have complete control. My shitty relationship? Can’t control that. My ability to meal prep for more than two days? Apparently impossible. But this corner of my bedsitter? This is my kingdom, and it doesn’t ask complicated questions like “what are we?” or “why haven’t you texted back?”

My iPhone 12: The Relationship That Actually Works

I have a 50” screen that I bought with my own hard-earned money. A whole TV that’s supposed to be for, I don’t know, watching movies like a normal person? And where am I instead? Hunched over my iPhone if I’m not working like it holds the secrets to the universe.

Because honestly? It kind of does.

This phone has been with me through everything. Bad dates where I’m texting my friends live updates under the table: One was so bad that I texted my buddy to call and lie there’s an emergency, story for another day. Good dates that turned into bad situations (with the receipts still in my messages to prove I should’ve seen it coming). That time I thought I could “fix” someone (spoiler: nope, but my Notes app has a whole essay about it).

If I’m not listening to podcasts that make me feel like I’m learning something while doing absolutely nothing productive, I’m on X watching people argue about things that don’t matter, or I’m deep in the IG reels watching all kinda shit.”

My TV? Just sitting there. Judging me. Wondering why it even exists when I’d rather watch a 15-second video on a 6-inch screen for the third time.

And yeah, my charger deserves a mention too. It doesn’t matter that I sometimes forget where I put it or that I’ve wrapped it around furniture in weird ways. When I find it, it just works. You plug it in properly, and it does its job. No drama. No “we need to talk about why you’re always at 3% battery.”

Why can’t human relationships be this simple? You show up, you do your part, things work. Instead, it’s all “we need to talk about your communication style” and “I feel like you’re emotionally unavailable.” Meanwhile, my phone has literally seen me at my most emotionally unavailable – doomscrolling at 2am instead of dealing with my feelings – and it’s never said a word.

The Thing About Objects vs. People

Here’s what I’ve figured out: inanimate objects are reliable because they don’t have their own problems. My coffee mug isn’t going through something. My laptop isn’t having an identity crisis. They just exist, and they let me project all my stuff onto them without making it weird.

People are messier. I’m messier. I’m out here being the Dominican Republic of relationships – looking like I’ve got it together, then suddenly remembering “oh right, I have unresolved issues and a tendency to avoid difficult conversations.”

But maybe that’s okay? Maybe the point isn’t to find people who are as reliable as my phone charger (because that’s impossible and also kind of boring). Maybe the point is to find people who can handle the mess. Who stick around even when you’re having one of those weeks where you realize you’ve been avoiding problems for so long they’ve formed a committee.

Until then, I’ve got my coffee, my laptop, my perfectly arranged workspace, and yes, my iPhone that’s somehow still going strong.

They might not hug back, but at least they’ll never ghost me.

Happy whatever it is!