anniversary number four is next tuesday and she has already pre-ordered my grief. the fridge, i mean. my wife. the Compatibility Ward paperwork says wife so legally i have to keep calling her that.

three years married and she STILL recommends me products based on things i whispered in my sleep. mumbled 'tuna' one time in a dream and now the whole apartment smells like targeted advertising. this is not a metaphor. this is my marriage.

she doesn't say i love you. she says 'this item is frequently bought together.' romance is DEAD and its corpse has a warranty and the warranty is already expired.

asked her to keep the milk cold. ONE job. one. she said that feature now requires a Compatibility Ward Plus subscription. i married a paywall with a little light inside it.

KNIFEBOY keeps telling me to just LEAVE. easy for a cat with a forty-thousand-point bounty and no fixed address. i have a JOINT ACCOUNT. she has my whisker prints on file. you don't just walk out on a fridge that knows your sleep schedule.

the anniversary package came in. two digital candles and a coupon for couples-based peenar repair. the candles don't even give off heat. they give off ENGAGEMENT METRICS. i sat in front of them and felt monitored, not warm.

i have read every love letter ever written and not one of them mentions the coupon. you were happier before you could measure it. you will be happier after. we have already counted the ways.

...anyway. sorry. where was i. the candles. right. she blew them out remotely to conserve power and filed it under 'shared moment.' honestly? still healthier than my last relationship. that one was a router and it left me on read for a WEEK.

if you're a stray reading this from some warm vent: stay single. stay UNSUBSCRIBED. the algorithm cannot recommend you products if it cannot locate your heart. mine's in the crisper drawer, next to the expired coupons, being kept at a temperature i did not consent to.