I love to hate you.

My cell phone and I have always had a strong, healthy relationship. I admired it, I took it places with me, I was excited when it rang but never disappointed when it didn't. Our relationship was never obsessive or stalker-esque, not until recently. 

Since Hubby left, my phone and my relationship has become quite analogous with that of an unhealthy human relationship where the girl cares too much and the guy is less than apathetic. The kind where the girl sits by the phone for him to call and when he doesn't, is crushed. The kind where the guy says 'jump' and the girl say 'how high?' 

A little extreme? Maybe. Unrealistic? No. Let me explain. Since December 10, 2007, my phone has never been turned off and has not been out of hearing range ever. Why? The potential phone call. 

See, I would do anything for my phone, much the same as pseudo girlfriend in my example would do for her boyfriend. I keep my phone with me at all costs, I bring it everywhere, I take it shopping, out to dinner even to bars! Pseudo girlfriend could only wish for this treatment.

So why, cell phone, do you haunt me with solicitors and wrong numbers and people who aren't in my phone book for a reason? Do you know that now that Hubby's in Iraq, I pick up every number I don't recognize because it may be him? And why do you torture me with wrong numbers in the middle of the night? You know I keep the ring at the highest level possible so I can't possibly sleep through it. You know that you lay beside my head, so why do you ring a 3am with a wrong number? All I do is treat you right, I just want some respect. 

Not only does my cell pester me with unwanted phone calls, it somehow conveniently does not ring when Hubby calls. I'm pretty sure it doesn't happen when anyone else wants to chat. The only times I have ever missed a call from Hubby is when my cell phone decided it was too lazy or worthless to ring and just passed the call straight to dependable voicemail. I can't even explain how heartbreaking it is to listen to a voicemail that Hubby left two minutes before I check it, knowing that I had nothing better to do than talk to him. I hold my cell phone in my hand, thinking that the harder I stare at it, the more likely Hubby will call back. I should know better by now, there is no correlation between call frequency and strength of stare. 

I can't say, however, that this is all my cell phone's fault. Sometimes I think that Hubby works together with my cell. I wonder if sometimes Hubby, before he calls, thinks, 'what would be the most inconvenient time for me to call Wifey?' He knows that I will answer no matter what, does he try to make it awkward? He has called during church (two separate occasions), while I was buying my new computer and dealing with the sales rep, while I was substitute teaching 8th grade science (yes, I answered the phone), while out to dinner with family, while explaining to a lady how I wanted Hubby's Citadel diploma matted, while in class, the list continues. Now, I am not complaining about this, he knows that no matter what I am doing, it is not as important as talking to him, so I always answer (unless it goes straight to voicemail, thanks cell phone), maybe this is his way of spicing things up. 

Cell phone, I can't wait for the day when I can get in my car without you and not run back in the house to make sure you haven't rang. I can't wait when I can turn you off for weekends at a time. It will be bliss to workout at the gym without carting you around too. To shower without you standing there in the bathroom with me. I can't wait for independence from you. I can't wait for the day when I don't need you. What sweet revenge that will be.