You're like a love interest playing hard to get. Just when I've spent the days before Christmas, praising you to the skies with Miami, you cut me off in a "treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen" kind of way. After weeks of "who needs iBurst" comments, I suddenly had to come crawling back to iBurst, resembling a girl who drunkenly calls her ex on a particularly lonely night. Then, I finally decide to confront you, "what the &%#¤ is going on?" and you softly convince me that it's nothing, just work overload, you'll be back to your best as soon as possible. The exact terms being that somebody will come by the next day to check out the connection.
Already that evening, of course, the network is back on, oh it's like being sent flowers the day before a reconciliation date and I'm happy, oh so happy again. As I start my "Dear Vodafone" love letter the next day, you predictably disappoint me, but now I'm already hooked. "Surely the connection will be back on again soon" I think, although by now I should know better, I should know that you've found someone else to woo, not caring the least about how I am going to connect with the rest of the world.
I try to get back with you for several days, but I'm left disappointed and longing for you more and more. Today I finally gave up and now I'm digging up the ex-files, reaching for the iBurst modem. But as I'm about to stick the cable into the laptop, what do I see? We're back on!
As I am writing this, I see you flickering, on and off, on and off, as if to remind me that you're not mine for keeps, just for as long as you're enjoying it. So now Vodafone, I'm practically begging you, stay with me baby, I need you, I need you there when I wake up and before I go to bed. But if this is the way you're going to continue, I'll have to break it off and find someone else. I don't want to because I really like you, your customer service and your closeness to me, but hey, I'm only human and nothing, nothing will come between me and my love and need for the internet.