Life was so much simpler when it was just the two of us. We’d explore such avenues of thought together, you and I. Walking arm in arm through the boulevards of well-established fact before ducking down a muddy alley and romping in the puddles of the arcane. I came to trust you, to lean on you, to depend on you. And you never let me down. Whatever I needed, you could always lay your hands on it. You gave me everything.
And then I met her. At first it was wonderful, the three of us, together. We would talk and drink. Wild talk, sometimes, but always there would be ideas. Facts, those precocious particles of truth, would be sprinkled about the conversation, and I noticed a change in you. Whereas before you would support me, more and more you were backing her up. I would glance over, only to find the two of you deep in your own explorations. I would make some pithy comment, only to receive some mumbled reply from her, she could barely take her eyes off you.
And I want her all to myself. So, sorry iPad – I’m banning you from the dinner table.