Am I really the only person with Earbud Incompatibility Syndrome?
Okay, listen: we can be friends and all, but there is a barrier between us, a profound and irreconcilable difference, a gulf that will never truly be bridged.
Specifically, I’m starting to think I have weird little mutant ear canals.
I’ve never been able to make earbuds work for me; one of the little buggers invariably drops out and dangles for a moment before its weight pulls its counterpart down as well. And foam earplugs never quite do the job of sealing me off from the outside world.
Now Alex has this gorgeous little Apple Bluetooth headset for her gorgeous little iPhone. It just parks in your ear and sits there until you take it out.
That is, it parks in your ear. In my ear, it hovers briefly and then plummets to the sidewalk, where it bounces into the nearest sewer grate. (Actually, that’s hypothetical; with a price tag of $130, I haven’t given it that opportunity. All my testing has been conducted in carefully controlled conditions involving foam-cushioned floors and trained professionals standing by to find the damn thing.) Ergo, no stylish Apple product for me; I am doomed to forever wander the world with one of those hook-over-the-ear headsets that might as well have the word “DORK” spelled out on it in high-intensity LEDs.
So here’s my question: am I the only person on this planet who suffers from Earbud Incompatibility Syndrome?
If so, would medical science be interested?
If not, if there are others like me, are there enough of us that the pharmaceutical industry will soon be offering a treatment? (“Earbuds used to be my worst enemy. Now they’re my best friend… thanks to Aurica. Aurica isn’t for everyone. Side effects include swollen lobes, agonizing auditory hallucinations, cerebral liquification disorder and, in rare circumstances, projectile spine ejection.”)
Who wants to join a support group?
