My Complicated Relationship With Technology (A Love-Hate Saga)

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Let’s get this out of the way: I love technology.

It’s my miracle worker. It delivers groceries, keeps my kid entertained, reminds me to drink water (which I never do), and even remembers birthdays I forgot.


But here’s the thing — for every good thing tech does, it throws in a ton of nonsense.

It’s like that friend who’s super helpful one minute and a total dumbass the next.


Take passwords, for example.

Every website has rules like it’s running a secret society.

“Must include a capital, a symbol, a number, a hieroglyph, and a drop of dragon blood.”

And when I finally make a password that looks like nuclear codes — it says, “Weak.”


Then there’s the “forgot password” cycle.

Reset the password. Click the link. Link expired.

Try again. “You’ve tried too many times.”

Really? Now I need to sleep on it and try tomorrow? Fine, whatever.


And the “Are you a robot?” test… I swear, one more blurry traffic light and I’m done.

How many crosswalks do I need to click before proving I have emotions?


But wait, there’s more.

Endless software updates that “fix minor bugs” but somehow break everything that was fine before.

Cloud storage that’s “almost full” no matter how much I delete. My phone is clearly holding a grudge.


And the chaos doesn’t stop.

I get logged out of everything at once. Passwords forgotten. Identity verification loops that never end. I start wondering if quitting the internet is actually a better idea.

Meanwhile, cookies and privacy alerts keep popping up. “Accept all cookies? Manage cookies? We remember your choice.” I swear, the internet knows more about me than I do.


Wi-Fi also has a mind of its own. One second it’s perfect, the next it disappears mid-video call. Bluetooth refuses to pair like it’s got a personal vendetta. Speakers randomly blast ads at 2 a.m., just to remind me that, yes, everything is connected, and nothing works together.

Autocorrect? Don’t get me started. Innocent messages become existential crises. My kid laughs, my boss worries, and I just stare at the screen like, what did I even type?


Smart devices aren’t any better. My phone decides when it wants to listen. Autocorrect changes my life mid-sentence. My voice assistant somehow thinks calling my ex is a better idea than playing music.

And customer support? The ultimate joke. You explain your problem, get a robotic “We understand your concern,” then a step-by-step guide that makes you want to throw your laptop. And when they “escalate it to a higher team,” that just means good luck, you’re on your own.


Meanwhile, I’m surrounded by gadgets that claim to make life easier. My smartwatch tells me to breathe. My phone tells me to update. My laptop tells me to free up space. Basically, everything is nagging me at once.


Yes, I’ve become lazy. Technology has turned me into someone who flinches at doing anything manually. Walk to the switchboard? There’s an app. Cook something? There’s a button. Remember something? Forget it — there’s a reminder for that.


Despite all the updates, crashes, storage tantrums, CAPTCHA torture, logouts, and general chaos, I still love technology.

It’s infuriating. It’s ridiculous. It’s a pain in the ass. But it’s also my chaos, and I wouldn’t trade it.


So yeah, I love technology. I just don’t trust it.

One moment it’s my savior, the next it’s making me scream at my phone.

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