My new phone wrote this blog post.

The new phone has arrived. Way before the shoes I ordered a month ago, too. Here’s my review of the Galaxy S10e:

Creepy.

The display is stunning. The image looks like it’s floating on the surface, like liquid mercury. The front-facing camera is nested inside the display. It’s positively jizz-worthy.

Don’t get me started on the difference in image quality of the front-facing camera. I did not realize how translucent my skin was.

Here’s the first selfie I took with the S10e:

The rear has one lens for close-up shots. This is Enfoiré. Isn’t he breathtaking?:

And a wide-angle lens to capture his cuteness in its entirety:

In all, the phone has three cameras! If you think that’s excessive, another model, the S10+ has five cameras.

It took zero effort to get all my apps back: the phone already knew that it was the first thing I’d want to do. One of my apps had a verification code sent to my phone number. Before I could even see the numbers, my phone was like, “I got this,” and entered it automatically.

I have a problem with this: I don’t want to give ai total autonomy so that I don’t have to memorize and enter four digits. Please leave some work for my brain.

Google is already composing possible responses to my emails:

No! I do not love it, Google!

When this one breaks, the next phone is going to learn my social media habits so that I can do hands-free scrolling through my feeds. I won’t have to double-tap to like; after all, my phone already knows what I like.

The next camera is going to be so fucking good that it’ll take photos of my imagination. Or what’s left of it anyway.

If that’s not invasive enough for you, you could get a Fitbit to track your sleeping pattern, your heartbeat, and your breathing. I was amazed when I first learned about what this $200 watch could do; then I simmered on the concept for a week before deciding that I hated it.

I cannot allow myself to become that dependent on technology. A clock already tells me how many hours of sleep I’ve gotten. I can then decide, upon waking up, whether it was good or bad quality sleep.

I don’t need a passive-aggressive Netflix-style “are you still watching?” reminder when I haven’t moved in a while. I know when I’ve been on the couch for too long: my joints start to hurt. Granted it’s easy to listen to your body when it’s this demanding.

I already don’t allow my phone to vibrate when a new text comes in. If I’m not already on my phone, then it’s not a convenient time for me to text back. I don’t have that kind of urgency in my life. Even worse are those people who have the notifications turned on for likes.

I was also already avoiding technology from doing all the work before smartphones entered my life: I don’t allow my alarm clock to do the waking up. It’s not because I’m deaf: the alarm part of my clock is a desk lamp that flashes in my face. I hate it so much that I’ve trained my body to beat the clock.

Except, Enfoiré learned how to beat my body clock, and tramples all over me demanding breakfast at 6am every morning.

I guess what I mean to say is that I’m happy to have a phone again. I just need to work on my tone.