An ode to Alex of the Apple Store…

2 Nov

I waved at Alex as I walked past the Apple shop this morning. Just as I finished that sentence I imagined myself as some happy-go-lucky peasant child in Victorian clothing, administering a cheery hello to a London fruit seller. Certainly a hundred years previously this may have been the case… but in 2010 I offered my greeting instead to a man in a blue t-shirt, surrounded by computers.

Alex and I have become friends since he sold me my iPad on Sunday and our relationship is blossoming. Every time I walk past the Apple Store, piercing the drab, grey sphere that’s Bondi Junction with its pearly white light of awesomeness, my eyes seek out the man who changed my life. He knows he’s changed my life, too. The nod of his bespectacled head through those floor to ceiling windows suggests that Alex knows exactly what he’s done to me.

When he sat me down at the work bench and said, “I’ll let you take the wrapping off now, Becky,” I gasped at my proximity to full completeness. The mutual feeling of anticipation could not be denied. As I accepted his offering… held this hard, smooth, complex body in my humble hands, my fingers knew exactly where they had to go. He smiled. It was as if we belonged together.

Yes, Alex was not wrong when he stated that this imminent connection to a world with no horizon would inject the tedious monotony of my existence with a drug so strong and so powerful I would never escape its clutches. The thought of returning to the time BiP (Before iPad) makes my blood run cold. I wake up – I think about it. I sleep with it next to my pillow, feeling its presence try its hardest to deny me my dreams before dancing right through them of its own accord. When it’s not in my sight I panic, I worry that it might disappear as quickly as it appeared. I live in fear that Apple might change their mind and want it back, that some dastardly time-traveller might uncover a wormhole back in the 1930s and put a spanner in the works of the world’s first computer, so Apple was never born; so this gift was never mine to begin with. AWFUL. Go away horrid thoughts. IT’S MINE, MINE MIIIINE!!!

I will never be alone again. Alex won’t allow it. He’ll stand beside me through thickness and uber sexy handbag-fitting thinness. Alex of the Apple Store – the man who made me whole.

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