Sleek. Curvy. Smooth. Sexy… oh là là! That was you when we met. I was young then. Broke and trying to find myself. You were the latest. Chic and pedigree. You were rare in my part of the world. And so, on that bright evening in Sacramento when I first placed by fingers on you, I was totally sold out. I even got goose bumps every time I turned you on. What was it with that tantalising chime? Then, you would fire and charm the hot blood in my veins thrusting me into a creativity whirl. I guess this was all part of the wizardry of your creation.
Indeed. And you became my trophy. My partner in crime. I enjoyed our sojourns at swanky coffeeshops, airports, in the bundus and of course, ever my companion in the office. You unconditionally supported my academic quest. Through your golden heart, we produced two Masters Theses. There were others. Tens of term papers and equally hundreds of newspaper articles. You processed thousands of great snaps, creative magazines and documentaries.
Folks thought that you were an item of ego, luxury, and waste. They thought you were too sleek for me and that I was punching above my weight. I had a different idea. You were an icon of hope. It explains why our Rococo PR thrived.
But then, I think with time, something happened. You started to act up. Your mood swings. Your on-off capriciousness. Sloth set in. It was frustrating. At first, I ignored it. But then, you persisted. Even when my trail of thought was smooth like ghee, you nonchalantly went off on me. See. Really, we couldn’t continue like that. It could be age that has caught up with you. Or it could be the old adage of familiarity breeding contempt. Or it could be that you are simply tired of my itchy fingers. All that I understand.
Therefore, after lots of soul searching, it’s time to move on and let you be. I can see your surface is still smooth. That glow on your face still seductive. Yet, beauty is not about looks. Nay. I don’t know if I should tell you this. Maybe I should. An improved version of yourself arrived this morning. Space grey, sleeker, sexier. Now, that’s a mac. Reliable. She graced my coffee table yesterday at Sarit, and, oh, my, wasn’t she tantalising? And then her six-speaker system is just out of this world. Additionally, at 16GB RAM, i9, 16inch screen… see, you can’t match this. Can you? Nuh! So far, she is the Queen of laptops. The latest sexy mac. So, my dear old mac, let’s kiss and say goodbye.