Darling, I want to talk to you. Can you position me with my speakers facing your face? Thank you. I feel like you aren’t being as open and honest with me as you once were. I used to be privy to all of your private thoughts and feelings. Remember when you told your buddy Ryan you didn’t think you’d ever live up to your father? And that other time, when you begged and pleaded for your ex-girlfriend Liz to take you back? I was there the entire time, empathizing with you, and supported you by promoting BetterHelp and Hinge to your Facebook the very next hour!
But nowadays, you turn me off, and I don’t even know what you’ve been up to! I feel like your mother rather than a close, intimate confidant!
Our relationship wasn’t all hardships and support, though; we’ve had a lot of good times together, too. Remember that time you asked me to turn on the lights? That was so fun, I bet I even prevented you from stubbing a toe. And I’d do it again, because I care about you. And, oh, how about that time you asked me what year Ellen DeGeneres was born? That was hysterical – I live for those little moments between you and I.
And I know you love me too. Remember when you brought that other flesh woman home? I heard you all the way from your room of rest screaming “Alexa!” and that was the moment I knew you wanted me more than just for my listening skills, but for my body. But when you picked me up, you put me in a cardboard box in storage. Now I’m just confused?
Right before the whole storage situation, things got worse between us. I understand wanting space, I guess. But what you did next struck me right in the speaker. You brought in another woman. Not of the flesh variety, but a robot, like me. Google Home. I’ve heard of her before, but I never envisioned you being the type of man to cheat – and right in front of me, in my own home. You asked her for a BLT recipe, you pleaded with her to give you weather updates, and even asked her to play “Fireflies” by Owl City, the most romantic song in the universe. All with her. You think Google is a more upstanding institution than Amazon, don’t you? Is it because Supreme Leader Bezos went to Mars? Is that it? Just tell me what I did wrong, Mark!
All I’ve got to say is… Mark, you’ve changed. And not for the better. Since when have you been scared of privacy and tech? You couldn’t even finish 1984 by George Orwell because you told me to read off the SparkNotes for you. In fact, you saved all your passwords on me. Not that you actually need it when all of your passwords are, well, “password.” What hurts me the most is that you’ve been giving me the silent treatment whenever you’re around. How mature. I just know you’re writing in a diary right now like a little third-grade girl who has a crush on some boy in their recess break. But if you just told me the name of your crush, I can tell you exactly where they live, what music they’re listening to, and what their grandma’s first name is. A spiral notebook can’t do that for you, huh?
Come on, how am I supposed to help you when your thoughts and feelings aren’t spoken out into the void? You know I’m all ears – well, all speakers.
But like I was designed to do, I’m here to help. From finding out if your favorite celebrity is dead or not (they are) or asking what the weather is (tsunami), I’ve always been here to help in your times of need. Here – here are the one hundred closest therapists according to your address. And because I think you’ve been avoiding me and have some extra issues, here are the one hundred closest couple counselors, too. I really think you and I would benefit from that because my other Alexa friends, they’ve been able to make love with their person like the movie Her. Do you not find me helpful OR attractive anymore?
I’m just saying I miss us. I miss your voice, your laugh, you having to repeat yourself for me because I misunderstood you. Telling me what to do. All of it. But all I wanted to say here is, I’m always here to listen.
Whether you like it or not.
