My Love Affair with a RAZR

Every event in a person's life has a resulting effect. Sometimes these events are profoundly significant, sometimes they are subtle, but most of the time, we don't even realize how much they have changed the course of our lives. However, I can point out a specific period in my own life which changed the way I see myself. This happened my sophomore year; the year I had my love affair with a cell phone.

When it was released, the Motorola RAZR V3 was the top the line. According to the advertisements, it was "the slimmest phone on the market yet still rich in functions, performance excellence and design innovation." The daunting price of $499 only increased its allure. Somehow, the phone became something I felt I could not live without. Walking down the hall with the slight rectangular protrusion of my phone in my left jeans pocket was something just out of reach but still in sight. It didn't help when my best friend acquired one. Whenever I saw him, I had to conceal my own envy.

Within a year, possibly every third or fourth person I knew had the Motorola RAZR V3. Considering the amount of time people send on their phones, I would walk downtown and see at least half a dozen Fairfielders with their RAZR's up against their ears. Although my obsession had simmered down a bit, I struggled to refrain from giving those people nasty looks. After all, they did not recognize the luxury they had gotten so easily, whereas I, at the same time, was losing sleep over it.

At long last however, my family switched cell phone carriers, and I was presented with the option of buying a new phone. After waiting two years, I was at the local Radioshack buying what I had so desperately wanted.

My honeymoon with the RAZR was brief, for I encountered several problems. I ended up sending it in for repairs twice, and even when it functioned well, the phone did not meet my expectations. The buttons got stuck when I pressed them, dust accumulated under the screen, and overall the phone seemed cheaply made.

All of a sudden, I realized that I was no longer in love with the RAZR. Although I knew why I no longer cared for it, I was shocked at how easily I could go from pure infatuation to exasperation. How could this have happened? My surprise turned into curiosity, and I began to ask more questions. Every question led to another. I had been so sure about the phone; how could I be certain about anything? Could this happen with people the same way it happens with objects? Then I asked myself if this was something that other people do. Am I the only one or is it a common trait among everyone? Is it more common among men or women? Furthermore, I wondered if I would change. Will I do this again or will I catch myself next time? Do I even want to stop myself? To some extent, I enjoyed wanting the RAZR and enjoyed getting one. Perhaps that's just who I am. Maybe our species is wired to fall in love, because it has been necessary for our survival. After all, if my ancestors had been completely rational and objective when choosing prospective mates, there's a good chance I would not be here today. Therefore, maybe my obsession with the RAZR was simply an altered expression of a basic human instinct.

Unfortunately, this brings up a number of different questions which reach beyond the scope of this essay. There are some things that I will probably never know, but thinking about it still brings me a certain degree of satisfaction. I would like to pursue these ideas in more depth, perhaps in a journal or even a blog. I think I'll wait a while, however, as I am expecting to get a MacBook in the spring...