Hi, there. Nice day? Wait, who’s that ringing the doorbell? Oh, you didn’t… Don’t look at me like that. You got Uber Eats, didn’t you? There’s no point in denying it. I’ve been watching you. I know your habits.
It’s been exactly fifty days since you walked past me in Urban Outfitters, did a double take, then reluctantly bought me, because you want to look environmentally aware in front of your cool colleague. $30 might seem a lot of money for a water bottle, but you’re going to use me every day, right? You even got a metal one, because your friend’s girlfriend told you that plastic was “evil”.
I match your phone case, your laptop sleeve and your “good purse”. There’s no denying that the intention was there. You wanted me to become part of your brand.
And now, look at us. I’ve been holding the same water for 44 days, now. I would suggest that it’s turned bad, but my seal is so tight and non-degradable that it’s still perfectly drinkable – don’t try it, just trust me on that one.
It all went wrong on that day when that over-enthusiastic colleague insisted you try the edgy, cone-shaped cups from the new water dispenser in the office, and you became hooked on their thin, papery feel – it’s almost like holding water in your bare hands! Who doesn’t want to feel like Aquaman, eh? Well, why don’t you tell that to, oh, I don’t know, THE POLAR BEARS? I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to raise my voice.
I don’t hold it against you that you forgot about me. How could I ever be truly angry that you sacrificed a sliver of the lifespan of Planet Earth, purely because the effort of washing me out every once in a while was just too much? I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, what with office work and weekends and such.
I’ve been sitting on your shelf, watching your every move. I saw when, two weeks, you carried your mugs all the way to the dishwasher, primed and ready to put them inside, then became a touch overwhelmed by the effort of actually opening it. Those mugs sat there for eight days, unwashed. Who needs to buy houseplants when you can grow your own, eh?
Every morning, you look at me and wonder whether we should try again. You gaze at my shiny surface, trying to calculate whether it’s worth the process of sterilizing me with boiling water, or even just picking me up and turning me over to see whether I’m dishwasher safe.
I am, by the way. Not that you’ll ever know that.
It’s a little sad, really. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had big dreams of being there for you, providing a nice, refreshing sip of water when you needed it most – iced tea had even crossed my mind… I know, it’s silly. “Step into the real world, Lorraine”, they always told me, “Just snap out of it!”
Anyway, remember that I’ll always be here if you need me, alongside your gym membership card and the half-eaten box of chocolates originally destined for your elderly grandmother. Let’s catch up soon.