Ardent followers of our hallowed pages will know that I recently took the giant step of ditching my trusty HTC Desire HD and purr-chasing an iPhone 5. A 64GB iPhone 5, to be specific.
Yes, that means I parted with a frankly outrageous £700, and as such, the past week has been nothing less than terrifying.
My concerns are partly well founded, and partly just me being absolutely insane. Also, I’m perfectly aware that I could nullify said concerns with a) insurance, and b) a case, but where would the fun be in that?
What am I talking about? The whole world is against me. Me and my 112g iPhone 5.
Now, say what you like about the iPhone 5 (it’s “over-priced”, it’s dull, it’s just a long iPhone 4S…), but the fact is that I’m suddenly faced with caring for a £700 rectangle.
I was so paranoid about my fragile little touchscreen buddy that, for the first few days, I used my iPhone 5 and HTC Desire HD in tandem.
The former was more of a showpiece, reluctantly used for texts and calls then returned to a safe place where no harm could befall it. The latter took care of my Wi-Fi-based needs, and remained my daily alarm clock.
See, there was genuine concern that the vibration from the alarm coupled with early morning clumsiness would spell inevitable destruction for the iPhone 5. It’s a delicate little chap.
I also had to think twice before sticking my iPhone 5 in my pocket when going to the shops. Was it really worth it just for a 10-minute walk, when I’d undoubtedly be mugged by omniscient local criminals?
Similarly, I was at a “gig” (feel free to replace that with a cooler noun, if one exists) the other night, and felt like everyone knew I had £700 in my front right pocket. As such, I spent the entire night with my hand lingering just above it. Actually, that explains the strange looks.
I’ve also found myself obsessively washing my hands after I touch, well, anything. Eating a bag of grapes? Get that iPhone 5 outta here! The natural acids from the grapes will melt through the screen like the acidic blood from the Alien films. True story.
In a blatant display of his hatred for Apple, God cranked out a torrential downpour as I walked through the middle of nowhere, soaking my clothes and threatening to destroy my iPhone 5.
Thankfully, deploying my hand just above my pocket ensured my iPhone 5 remained dry. And again, that would explain the strange looks.
It’s a bit like the first time a spanking new guitar falls over, or the strap fails and it crashes to the ground, or you bang it off a wall as you turn i.e. The End of the Freakin’ World. Fast-forward a few months, however, and you’ll barely bat an eyelid. Assuming the damage – if any – is purely cosmetic. Beat up guitars look great.
Indeed, my iPhone 2G is scratched to blazes after years of loyal service, and, personally, I think it looks awesome. Of course, a single scratch on the iPhone 5 casing at this early stage, and my Rage Meter will instantly scream to the top and begin flashing.
The moral of the story? Always drop your new phone as soon as you get it to avoid what I like to call Kid Glove Insanity. Or maybe just buy a case and invest in insurance. Yeah, maybe the second one.