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My Boyfriend Doesn’t Have An iPhone So I Guess I Have To Dump Him

My Boyfriend Doesn't Have An iPhone So I Guess I Have To Dump Him

There are two kinds of people in this world.

And those are people with iPhones, and everyone else.

Computers? Whatever, I’ll give it to you. The PC vs. Mac debate ended when those commercials with Justin Long and Justin Long’s DUFF went off the air. Use whatever computer you like, it’s doesn’t really matter. As long as it functions, you watch porn in a private window, and the keys aren’t completely congested with food or anything else you spill on it, the brand isn’t that debatable or worth the energy fighting over.

But your phone?

Your phone is an entirely different story.

Think of the aesthetics for one. An iPhone is a sleek, well-designed, gorgeous piece of technology while Droids or Samsungs or whatever-the-hells are bulky, cumbersome, ugly even. Emojis on non-Apple products are juvenile and lowbrow. I hear the avocado didn’t even show up right away — if you can imagine. In order to have something similar to Siri, Android users have to find an app and cross their fingers it won’t crash all the time. The design and utilization of non-Apple phones is just, frankly, a piece of shit.

But all of that aside, there’s one very specific thing that iPhones have the Androids do not.

And that is iMessage.

I met the guy I’m seeing the “old fashioned” way. AKA, we were both six drinks deep at a dive bar and started arguing over who was hogging skee ball (it was me), ended up challenging each other to a competition (I bet him drinks he would lose), and then ended up making out at his place after I won (I’m pretty sure I lost). The next morning we did the awkward “that was fun” dance and exchanged numbers. Later that morning when I was at brunch a text came through on my phone and the cute message declaring that we should have a rematch wasn’t what jumped out at me.

It was that the message bubble wasn’t the shade of cerulean I’m so accustomed to seeing.

Instead, his message was surround by that horrible, aggressive, non-iMessage shade of green.

I rolled my eyes at myself initially. I mean, who cares right? It’s just a phone, it’s not a big deal. Besides, who ACTUALLY ends up dating the dude they met in a bar anymore? I figured the likelihood was that we’d exchange some witty back and forth, maybe hook up, and then he’d go off into the proverbial wind like most 20-something guys who pick up girls in dive bars do.

But then…one date turned into five.

And hooking up turned into full blown days in bed ordering Postmates and watching half of Westworld together because he insisted I finish it.

And then all of a sudden the guy from the dive bar turned into the guy I started to take seriously.

Still…

Every time he texts me and I see that shade of gross-out-green where aesthetically-Apple-azure belongs, it annoys me. Every time I realize that I’ve missed four texts from him because I was focused on my computer and it’s synced to iMessage which he doesn’t have because of his stupid phone, it makes me want to scream. Every time he asks if I have a charger, it becomes evident that I’ll be getting all of the Ubers and handling the food delivery for the night. Not to mention he’ll be MIA from the world until we find whatever monstrosity, non-compatible cord they’re peddling for lesser phones these days. Every time I hear about another Samsung exploding in the hands of a toddler I have to text him to make sure that’s not his model because lord knows we’re not at emergency contact status yet.

Every time his phone comes up, it’s a sore subject.

I guess I don’t know where the line is. We haven’t been seeing each other long enough for me to justify buying him a $700 “just because” gift and honestly I’m not even totally sure when his birthday is so that’s probably out of the question anyway. I could subtly suggest he take my old iPhone 6…but it’s rose gold and something tells me he wouldn’t be into that. I can give Apple all of the free promo in the world in the hopes that he sees the errors of his technological ways, but at this point he’s 28. If he wanted an iPhone, he’d have an iPhone by now.

So I suppose I have two options.

Dump him the next time I remember I can’t message him from my computer, or live with the fact that my boyfriend has terrible taste in technology.

Or with my luck, we’ll find out he has a peasant phone that’s not allowed on planes when we try to take a vacation together, and we’ll be stranded in an airport and he’ll have to admit that I was right all along.

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Emily

Please bore someone else with your questions.

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