I’m living happily ever after with my computer

I recently ended an abusive relationship with my PC, and it feels so (oh, I so wanted to swear here, but I didn’t) fantastic. (Okay, I really, really wanted to swear there, because I feel really, really fantastic, and the word “really” so totally pales in comparison to the word I so want to type but won’t. I just won’t.)

I’ve been a PC girl since the first PCs were invented. PCs were the computers we used when I worked for a newspaper. They were what we used when I worked in publishing. I remember the invention of Windows 95 as if it were yesterday. Oh we waited for that operating system with bated breath. I remember the day we started using Word. It’s the same with Exchange and then Outlook. Oh, those were good times. And when Intel came out with the Pentium? It was orgasmic.

So when it came time for me to buy a computer for my home, I, of course, bought a PC. To me, the choices were not PC versus Mac. They were Compaq vs. Hewlett Packard vs. Dell vs. Gateway vs. Toshiba. My first brute of a PC was a System Max. I honestly no longer remember his brand. It was something like that. Let’s just call him Mr. Max. He was huge jock of a computer. The tower weighed almost as much as I did. I fell head over heels in love. I continually talked up my linebacker of a computer to friends and family. Whenever company visited, I said, “Come see my new computer!” I showed off Mr. Max as if he were Brett Favre himself, and my visitors swooned over him, too.

Then, Mr. Max crashed. I assumed his illness was my fault. I apologized. Oh, Mr. Max, what did I do wrong? Did I open too many files at once? Did I download something you didn’t like? What? Tell me? But Mr. Max inflicted the silent treatment. He froze me out. He broke up with me in the meanest of ways, and he wouldn’t even let me retrieve my stuff—my emails, Word files, and so on—that I’d left at his place.

My only option? Replacing his hard drive.

I replaced his hard drive and his modem and many other parts at least three times over. In the end, I he was no longer the lovely brute of a computer I’d fallen so in love with. He’d changed.

We broke up, and, undaunted, I quickly re-entered the PC dating scene. This time I would not date a System Max. I’d learned my lesson. This time, I’d do better. I found a Dell. Oh, I so loved my new Dell. I loved it so much that I talked my mother into buying one, too.

A year later, her Dell crashed. She called me, sobbing. I explained that she must have done something wrong. I told her that my Dell was wonderful. It must be her. It couldn’t be the Dell.

Then mine crashed, too.

I again started dating. I would never again date a Dell. I found a Hewlett Packard notebook. Oh, he was so fancy. He was so fast. He had such a big screen. He had Windows XP. What else could a gal want? I again fell in love. Our relationship, of course, was rocky at times. Sometimes Mr. HP would act up, complaining that I was asking too much. He’d put his foot down, saying that he was not going to stand for it any more. He’d give me the hand. He froze. He refused to operate. But I’d learned a thing or two. For one, I had online backup. So ha! This computer was not going to make off with all of my stuff! No siree. Two, I knew how to push HPs buttons. Whenever he gave me the hand, I gave him Control + Alt + Delete. It smacked some sense into him every time.

Well, almost every time. After about two and a half years with HP, I woke one morning to learn that he had been up all night. He refused to tell me where he’d been and with whom he’d canoodled. He would only say one thing: “Your computer is on lock down. Only the system administrator can unlock the computer.” Wasn’t I the system administrator? Apparently not. During his all-nighter, he’d found a new woman to administrate his system. I was deeply hurt. You know what else? Mr. HP changed his buttons. Control + Alt + Delete did nothing. He remained locked. The curse words that came out of my mouth during the long moments when I kept pressing those buttons are not fit for print. Use your imagination.

I’d heard about this minority group in the computer world. They were called Macs, and people seemed to love them. These folks told me that Macs were the best inventions since the motherboard. They all said the same thing, “Oh, you’ll love your Mac.” It made me wonder whether they’d been brainwashed by a charismatic cult leader, though. Could they be this ecstatically happy about their computers? I secretly thought that they might just be smoking something instead.

The PC loyalists told me that only artists dated Macs. They swore that writers should only date PCs. “Everyone in publishing uses a PC,” they warned. “Switch to a Mac and you’ll be sorry.”

I needed a computer, though. I could not live without one. So one night, I decided to try speed dating. I went to the Apple Store. I spoke with a sales person. I asked a lot of questions, and he answered every one. I’d planned to shop around, of course, but I fell in love so quickly and so effortlessly that I walked out of that store with a notebook, docking station, monitor, all-in-one printer, back up device, wireless keyboard and mouse, and new software. I knew right away that I’d made the right decision because my Mac was so polite and so chivalrous. He even had his people carry all of these heavy components to my car!

Things seemed a little too perfect, though. I asked the salesman, “Shouldn’t I get some condoms?” I’d been using condoms with ultra protection on the PC. They were quite expensive. The salesperson, however, said, “Oh, see, you’re Mac is monogamous. He won’t get a virus because he doesn’t sleep around. You know with your PC, how things were always happening in the background? That’s why it was prone to viruses.” My Mac refuses to have sex (also known as downloading) with anyone at any time unless I give him permission by typing in my password. My PC? Apparently he’d been having sex behind my back for years, downloading all sorts of updates and things without my permission. No wonder he’d contracted so many STDs!

My first few dates were a little awkward. I didn’t know my way around my new Mac’s operating system. I didn’t know how to press his buttons. He was also a tiny little thing. Would he be enough man for me?

I soon realized that my Mac was missing an important adaptor needed to hook the computer to the monitor.

I drove back to the store to buy the adapter only to be sold the wrong one. I again drove back to the store, this time somewhat miffed. You know what? My Mac had his people apologize! A store manager called and told me he was so sorry that I had been so inconvenienced. He wanted to know what he could do to make me happy. I said, “You’ve already done it.” My PCs had never once apologized. They’d all told me that whatever was wrong was surely my fault. Oh, I so loved my Mac.

My HP got jealous and tried to sabotage my new relationship by making it nearly impossible for me to transfer my stuff to my Mac. My Mac got his people to help. He said, “Just drop us both off at the store and someone there will transfer all of your stuff for you. They’ll take care of that mean old HP. You’ll see. Don’t let him boss you around.” I did as Mac suggested, and, sure enough, all of my things are now on my Mac.

I’ve been using my Mac for a few months now. I’ve learned my way around his operating system. He really is wonderful, and, yes, he’s more than enough man for me. He’s never complained a lick. No fatal errors. No lock downs. No blue screens of death.

I’m still a little wary. I’ve been burned many times, after all. I have a back up system just in case. I think of it as a prenup. I’m 99 percent certain that I’ll never need to look at it, though, because Mr. Mac and I are going to live happily ever after for the rest of my living days.

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Tagged as: abusive relationships, computers, mac vs pcs