Fifty shades of my new iPhone 5s

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I’m a man who takes his time with new devises, and today, both the iPhone 5s and I …arrived.

I caress the packaging until I find that incredibly small nub at the end of the shrink-wrapped seam halfway between precious sharp corners of the box. I lick my index finger and thumb as I place my ear upon the box and feel the stir of the electric embryo from within.

There, perched above it and still, I wait, patiently, for it to call to me. I breathe soft kisses and with just a pinch of my finger, I pop the nub and unzip the shrink wrap all the way down to the opposite end, slowly pulling the cloying cling wrap apart all the way to the pearl-colored corner. I let it sit there for a moment, its protection hangs loose. I stare at it, searching it bare. I let it stare back at me and we both inhale.

“Good morning baby,” I murmur to my iPhone 5s still cradled in its delivery case. My lips purse into a suction flower, like a babe searching for the sweet liquid gold from a young mother’s divine plunger-colored areola.

Ripe and waiting for me to slurp the electronic juice from my new device, my teeth clinch around the corner of the dangling packaging and I remove the plastic sheath. With a single tear my breast heaves as I watch the plastic filigree cascade to the ground like the first freed leaf of autumn.

A new season is coming, the season of the 5s. In an instant, I feel the change inside my warm mouth, down my waiting, gasping throat and plummeting to the lowest part of my thundering loins, the boiler room of my soul. I am filled with turgid juices ready to explode from my deepest exit like an overflowing wild brook careening through the dense forest during the season’s first snow melt. Unwilling to uncage the animal quite yet, my fuel begins to seep out of me like grease from Taco Bell meat — from my fingertips to nostrils to every hair follicle, the half-life of this 17-month buildup has begun to drain from me all over the pristine box’s face.

I open the encasing, slowly so that each tiny millimeter of my prize is closer to being realized as I breathe it in, every second. It feels like the friction of new bed sheets. I imagine us, me and the 5s, in Fiji, the parts of the packaging strewn throughout the room, leaving a breadcrumb trail to the giant canopy bed perched above the azure blue water where we lay in the excess of one other. Were for it not to remind me on top of its screen every moment, time would stop.

My mind fast forwards to the nearer future, where we have climaxed together for the first time, man and pixels; high-definition screen gasping, churning images — the synergy of my mark upon its casing — the most intimate and unique piece of me, my fingerprint, implanted permanently upon its glass screen.

The two of us, one.

I hold in a heavy breath and exhale, creating a fog on my Google Glass, the frames of which I sourly adjust as I realize I’m filming this first-time intimate encounter, but for whom? I feel a tiny surge of guilt which ebbs, ever so slightly, as the giant wave builds deep below my belt line. Is it fair for me to be using one cutting-edge product to film the opening of another? Should I? Should I take this first encounter off line?

There will be some awkwardness, some fumbling, some getting used to its weight and heft and feel. This is, after all, only our first time together. Maybe in two weeks, when we are one, when it has fused to my hand and every clever swipe of my finger elicits a reaction, a spark …when we’ve had time to fully discover one another. Maybe that’s when I should blog about it. Maybe that’s when I should release …my thoughts on the 5s.

I ignore the self-doubt to slowly bring the case to fully open.

My God. I pause as I see the bumble-bee-dipped-in-Cartier gold casing of this devise, I caress the color with my eyes. It’s as if the Raisin Bran Sun dropped two scoops of yellow magic on the top of an escalator from heaven right into this virgin-white box before me.

I can feel the glow from its inner light beam to bright my face. Quickly, without warning, I move my mouth to it, washing its sunshine backside with my tongue. The phone sits there, motionless, absorbing my fever. It is smooth, tasteless, still. But I feel, inside of it, the hum of a thousand tiny miracle parts. The inner glow of the screen beats like a jungle drum. I feel its precision, wanting, the pulse of a thousand tiny Chinese fingertips rise to its surface like a leviathan.

Humming inside, Apple’s new A7 SoC. The A7 is the world’s first 64-bit smartphone SoC, and the first 64-bit mobile SoC, my trembling fingertips its humble alter. I know what I hold in my hands. I know and I don’t know. Intel has a similar product but it’s yet to complete, yet to ship. It is this savage mystery, this feeling of all-power and complete powerlessness that temporarily freezes me, removes my heart from its cavity and places it inside the device.

I remind myself to breathe. Then, I look down and now the part of me which could hardly hide its curiosity before is fully aroused now, looking for me to release it from its khaki cave.

But not yet, I am a patient man. I remove the 5s from its cardboard cradle, like a newborn to its first bath. Quickly, I shed the protective plastic from its screen, finally it is there, naked for me. Waiting. I gaze down upon the device. I admonish myself, once more, for ever considering the purchase of a 5c, which essentially was my 5 with a candy-colored casing. My stomach drops for a moment at the very thought and I inhale the plastic-from-kindgoms-afar scent and begin to churn and convulse back to life.

The 5s’s lifeline is waiting in the socket and I insert the throbbing tip of the charger’s point in, slowly at first, just a tease. Then out again. I can feel the interior cries of want from the 5s and I know this first insertion must be the most important, the most tender. Our first. I remove the shimmering nob and blow on it, then rub it with my shirt. I slowly insert, like a needle into a pulsing vein and remove again. A pause, then, with a thrust, I insert it fully. I exhale. My tongue jabs out of my face and with an extraordinary sigh, I wait.

The moment of first charge has begun and I take it all in. My head tilts toward the ceiling. My body quakes with final anticipation. My hands cannot be still. I look down and see the fresh Apple logo, a single bite to remind me that only Steve has had a piece before me.

The screen lights up and I open a browser. It’s time to see, to feel the fastness of this processor, the richness of the new camera functionality, the pulse of its first vibration as it quivers to life in my arms.

I look at 5s with a smile of serenity on my face and go down towards microphone and whisper, satisfied, “Siri, find …Siri, come find me.”

She’s silent for a moment. “I am here,” she whispers back. Suddenly I shake and thrust and then release. The tension drains from me as I quiver and melt into the floorboards amongst the discarded packaging.

I am here too, Siri.

I am here and we are one.

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