She left today. I think it’s for good this time. See, while she was at work, I was supposed to call Chez Casa and make a reservation for our anniversary dinner. I meant to, I really did. But when I woke up, around eleven, Chez Casa wasn’t open yet. So I started playing around with my Toshiba DVD Recorder/VCR D-VR4, and, well, the next thing I knew, she was getting home from work and asking what time our reservation was for. From there, it was all “you love that full-featured, progressive-scan DVD player and recorder more than you love me” and “you’d rather record your VHS tapes to DVD-R than make love to me.” Pretty typical stuff.

I could barely be bothered to argue. Truth is, I was just waiting for her to leave me alone like everyone else does, so I could get back to my Toshiba D-VR4. Maybe that makes me a bad person. I don’t care. What can she, or anyone else, give me that I can’t get from my Toshiba? Can she store up to 12 hours of audio and video on a 4.7GB double-sided DVD-RAM (not included)? Do any of my former friends offer time-shifting functionality, so I don’t miss my favorite TV shows while I’m doing other things? (Not that I ever do other things, but still, it’s a matter of principle.) I admit, much of a woman’s body is a mystery to me. But if she can play DVDs, CDs, VHS tapes, MP3 discs, and JPEG photo discs, I never found the slot to put them in. And now I never will.

I guess I should be upset about that. I suppose I should’ve begged, pleaded, sworn that I’d change. But I’ve done that before, and let’s face it, it didn’t mean a thing. As the words were coming out of my mouth, I was caressing my Toshiba DVD Recorder/VCR D-VR4 in my mind. Just like I am right now. She left today. And I can’t feel a thing.

Back to top