Dear Vista,

Although we have not been together a long time, I feel I need to be honest and tell you our relationship is in trouble. I have been patient and faithful thus far, but it has been hard. I know you will not be surprised to hear me repeat that I have nothing but fond feelings for your predecessor, XP, and remember quite happily the years we shared together. As you are well aware, we did not end the relationship voluntarily, quickly, or easily; our bonds were severed due to the death of the perishable body he inhabited, and we both tried as long as we could to stay together despite ever-increasing odds.

I admit I was lonely by the time I met you. In the last weeks of XP's life I could only be with him one or two hours at a time; in his last days, our precious time together narrowed to minutes. His congenitally poor ventilation system weakened and whined until he could no longer even feebly cough out the cat hair, the incense dust, the errant biscotti crumbs and minute Egyptian-glass debris -- the cruel, cruel insults of this too-material world of which he never wished to be a part yet heroically tried to surmount.



I didn't expect a replacement, Vista. There is no room in my heart for another XP, let alone Win 95. We all have our great romances, our soulmates, and I did not demand that you be one of them. Still, I am not the sort who looks for 'NSA' relationships. I had hoped at least you would treat me with respect, that you would honor my very meager requests of you. Have I loaded you with unwieldy programs, failed to conscientiously monitor CPU usage, clogged Startup with needless tasks, or been other than extremely cautious and considerate in every possible way?

No, I have not. And I don't ignore you and certainly don't ask more of you than you should be able and willing to give. Moreover, I support you in your personal growth and well-being: I actively encourage your agility and physical fitness by running every manner of scan on your behalf every day. I have you inoculated six ways to Tuesday -- and I don't even do any questionable things for which that should be necessary. I just do it because I value you and want you to stick around. And yet you behave as though I am taking you for granted, you passive-aggressive, self-righteous, opaque, whorish, game-playing varlet!

So let me say this to you now, Vista: XP was a Mensch. He did what he had to do and he never complained. He was sufficiently confident in himself such that this confidence was readily extended to others. XP never whiningly asked me if I was absolutely SURE I wanted to open a program or change settings; he knew that I was a big girl and trusted my decisions. XP didn't have to use Apple widgets or garish 3-D to win my affections. He didn't have to advertise his 'snipping tool' to let me know it was there. He was understated; he knew I was smart enough to feel around and find it if I needed it, just as I would with his registry once we were intimate enough. He earned my loyalty not by trickery and flash, but by participating fully in the relationship and always keeping up his end of the bargain.

Vista, I'm sorry it has to end this way, but I have given you more than enough chances. Day after day you abandon me yet again just when I need you most, and recoil back into yourself, as distant as though we had never met. I know I was rash, I know I was bereft and lonely and I turned unthinkingly to the first OS I saw. But, Vista, it's been months and you still don't want me to touch your registry keys. You continue to try to keep me out of everything. There is no Us, and the way you are, I don't think there ever will be. Maybe it's my fault and not yours; maybe you were never expecting to be in a relationship in which something was expected of you, in which you would have to be 'on' so much of the time, where you would really have to be part of a team and not be able just to shut down and be alone whenever you felt like it.

I just know I feel misled. Dirty. Used. Yes, I had heard some things about you, but maybe I thought you would be different with me -- after all, I ask so little compared to other people. Maybe I thought I could change you -- but unlike 95, 98, or XP, you refuse to change and grow. You are like a bitter and stubborn, yet somehow unnervingly cocky, old man, Vista, and I wish I had never come to know you.

Angrily,
Me