She eats dinner with us. She joins us each Monday while we're watching Intervention. She even sleeps next to him.

She does not require oxygen; she never gets hungry. She vibrates politely with each e-mail, text and Facebook notification. The icons on her warm screen remind him that yes, he CAN take that picture of the classic car he saw while driving.

Her name is Blackberry, and I hate her.

As a human, I take much offense when he chooses to text during dinner instead of engaging in conversation. I'm not asking that he shower me with roses every waking moment. I don't need to be bathed in complements at all hours of the day. I just ask that when we're out to dinner, he kindly keep that damned quadrilateral in his pocket and off the table. I realize it's the digital age. I know people walk the street plugged into their iPods like IVs, yet some elements of the human experience must remain sacred. Conversation over dinner is sacred. Curling up together to watch a movie on a rainy evening is sacred. These moments help build relationships, and they are not to be diluted with vapid digital chatter. Even if he does not intend to make me feel unimportant, the message I receive when he chooses to scratch away at the keys is, "I'd rather be anywhere but here with you." I can't even begin to express my distaste when he whips out his phone, reads a message, laughs to himself and then says "Nothing" when I ask him what's so funny. Nothing, huh? Well, why don't I just leave you two alone, since your Facebook notifications are the equivalent of breaking news and you must constantly be in the know about who likes your status?

Is it wrong to dream about dropping poor Miss Blackberry into a pit of acid? I can't compete with her. She is everything a man dreams about: instant access to football scores, movie reviews and Tetris. I, on the other hand, require food, attention, and a good bit of snuggling. Blackberry doesn't whine when he wacthes ESPN for three straight hours. She sits on the coffee table, politely, waiting for him to touch her once more.