Divorce

I Broke Up with My Smart Ring

Dear Friends,

For weeks after I bought it I wore my Smart Ring faithfully, 24/7. We were inseparable. We slept together and I kept it on the middle finger of my right hand throughout the day, removing it only to shower and wash my hands. When I performed an activity like walking, or a gym workout, or a tennis practice, I used the activity settings on my Q Ring app to monitor my heart rate, calorie expenditure, elapsed time, steps taken, and distance walked. The ring became part of my conscience, a constant reminder that I must keep fit, sleep well, and store the data about my daily health in order to improve my chances of living longer. I was in thrall to the device. Wearing it I felt I was under the supervision of a caring parent who wanted only the best for me.

If occasionally I forgot to put it back on after washing my hands and then went for a walk or a trip to the gym without it, I felt guilty, like I had broken our vows and been unfaithful—the same feeling one gets from standing up a date with a loved one or forgetting to pick up one’s child from school. A betrayal. And there would be no data to confirm that I had been active, as though the event had never happened. A silent scolding, a pout.

The ring never let me forget our relationship. I could see it on my hand and feel it against my skin. It had become part of me. When its battery ran low, it would politely remind me it was time to recharge. Promptly, dutifully, I would remove the ring and place it on the charging station, and leave it alone only after making sure that the green charging light was blinking.

My trust in the ring began to wane after it produced a faulty sleep report one morning. According to the ring, my sleep had been excellent, a rating of over 90%. But I knew I hadn’t slept well that night. I had woken after a particularly vivid and intense dream and, unable to get back to sleep, I had read for a while on my iPad. The ring’s report claimed that I had been in deep sleep during the time period I had been reading. The devil of doubt crept into our relationship, like Othello’s suspicion of Desdemona. What other data it was reporting might also be unreliable? Soon doubt became resentment of my dependency on it. Couldn’t I just trust myself to maintain a fitness regimen without prompting from an electronic device? Had I become a slave to the technological machine that surrounds us?

The next time the app reminded me it was time to recharge, I realized that I was the one in charge; I was the one who had the power. I removed the ring from my finger and, instead of placing on the charging station, I put it back in its shipping box. Now, if I could just stop doom scrolling about Donald Trump on my iPhone, I’d be a free man.

Arthur

www.arthurhoyle.com