He’s not hard to spot, hardly as elusive as you would think. In fact, much of the time he is right there beside you, close enough to hear everything you have to say and chime in with a word or two, an idea, a piece of advice. Except that he doesn’t, because he is there and not there. You see, he has a Blackberry. Blackberry dad will come home from work, exhausted from the commute, anxious to sit down to a warm dinner with his wife, quality time with his toddler daughter. He will wash his hands, have a sip of water or wine, and hungrily grab… his blackberry. Scroll scroll scroll, goes the little wheel on the side. Tick tick tick, goes the tiny keyboard. “Put that away!” you exclaim, part amused and part exasperated. The Blackberry disappears with a quick apology and dinner resumes. Until the Blackberry rings and Blackberry Dad is really sorry but it’s a work call he must take.
On family outings, driving to the mall on a pleasant Sunday afternoon, you’ll be sitting in the passenger seat with the baby cooing contentedly in the back. You will initiate or join in a conversation with your husband, enjoying the time together, when a red light comes your way and your husband hits the brakes, lifts his right hand and… grabs his Blackberry. Scroll scroll scroll goes the wheel, as the car slowly inches its way biding for time before the light turns green. Click click click go the little keys. ‘It’s green’ you comment, seemingly careless, inwardly seething.
He plays with his daughter, horsing around and having a good time. Partners in crime, they share some sweet fudge while your back is turned. It would be perfect, if not for the occasional lapse, the familiar twitch, part necessity and part addiction. Blackberry Dad. Scroll scroll scroll, tick tick tick.
It’s with you in the pediatrician’s office as you list the baby’s symptoms. At the restaurant while you wait to be seated. At his parents’ house when you hope for him to carry the conversation instead of you.
It is late, your daughter has finally succumbed to the sleep fairy and you halfheartedly brush your teeth and collapse into bed. Your husband heads upstairs after a while and preps for bed. ‘Will you wake me tomorrow?’ yes, you will. Mindless chitchat, last minute thoughts, until you hear it, ever so subtle. Scroll scroll scroll, tick tick tick. ‘P-u-t t-h-a-t a-w-a-y!’ you hiss angrily. You have had it with the demonic device, and in no mood to watch its soft glow as you try to fall asleep.
There you have it, my friends: the other woman is a Blackberry.