BERKELEY'S NEWS • SEPTEMBER 27, 2022

An open love letter to my Amazon Prince

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FEBRUARY 09, 2015

Dear Amazon Prime,

When we first met, you united me with my autographed preordered, first-edition printing of John Green’s “The Fault in Our Stars.” The year was 2011, and I was just a hopeless romantic — a teenage fangirl — looking to finally punch the numbers of my newly printed debit card into the Captcha-guarded abyss of online shopping.

But little did I know that ours would be a relationship as passionate and sincere as the one shared by Augustus and Hazel Grace.

Before our relationship hit its Prime (aka the Prime-al stages), we had a few rough patches — a few mislabeled curling irons, a call to customer service — but those little spats were resolved quickly, assuring me that we could work through anything life threw in our way.

But then, everything changed. You lured me in with a promise of free two-day shipping. You asked for my .edu email, and suddenly, you had me pinned down, with my PIN number at your disposal. I was an Amazon student, and you were my loyal teacher.

The only problem I had with our relationship was that you allowed me to borrow from you. You let me rent books. You encouraged me to stay educated. But you chastised me when I underlined and highlighted, as if our love was not meant to leave a lasting mark.

And I thought our time was done. The six-month trial had ended, and I imagined what life would be like without you. I couldn’t remember what my life was before you, let alone what would be left of me and my purchase history when we canceled the subscription of our raunchy affair.

I tried to find comfort in other places — truly, I did. Barnes & Noble, Chegg, even the student bookstore couldn’t do what you could. It’s true that you can buy anything online, but not everything will come on time. You spoiled me. You ruined me for all other relationships, for better or for worse.

So I caved. I bought into your flashy pop-ups and passive-aggressive emails. I allowed myself to be weak, just this once, because I believed I deserved it. I deserved you. We deserved each other.

We were the perfect package deal (without the cost of standard shipping and the superfluous amounts of bubble wrap).

You gave me movies and TV shows at my disposal, streamed instantly to my laptop screen — the vessel of our love. Did I need any of it? No. But you offered me the world! Have I ever wanted to rewatch the seminal Canadian teen drama, “Degrassi: the Next Generation” from start to finish? No, my love. Not until you offered me the chance to.

You gave me books. I bought a Kindle — Kendall the Kindle, if we’re getting personal — and suddenly our love was spread over different devices. You sent me classics such as “Candide” and “Wuthering Heights” and fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm. Your selection is so diverse and wide-ranging that you increased my cultural capital, gracing me with your wisdom, e-book page after e-book page.

Now, honey, I know you have a lot more experience than I do. Ten years of it, in fact. But we’re treading all this new ground together.

I used to be selfish. I wanted this to be our little secret. But you changed me for the better and now I’m willing to share you with my family and friends — because everyone deserves to feel a love like this, at least once in their life. And hey, if someone else decides they want you, too, I’ll take all the credit.

Magazine subscriptions, drones, lockers, a Golden Globe Award-winning series? Who would have thought that our love would bloom into something so ubiquitous that the world is now at both of our fingertips — our fingertips that meet each time I gently press the keyboard to verify my identity before entering.

Yes, I would like to sign into your secure server. I’ve never felt so secure in my entire life.

Contact Rosemarie Alejandrino at 

LAST UPDATED

FEBRUARY 09, 2015


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