Oh iBaby, I would like to think that you are in a better place now.

But I don't.

I am sorry that the bad crack heads took you.

But I'd like you to know that you will always be my first, most-treasured, digital child/boyfriend/pet/plant.

We had so much fun.

Remember that cab ride home from Las Olas when you drowned out the cabbie's Indie techno music with Lady Gaga, allowing us to "just dance"? And then we called/texted all my friends just to say, "What's up?" That was fun.

And remember all those nights when you gave me the number for all of the Papa John's locations in my ZIP code? That was so thoughtful of you. Even though they were closed, and we had to eat pretzels instead.

Remember the party where Kelli and I didn't know anyone, so you found a list of "Would you rathers" for us to ask each other?

And all those times you connected me to Bank of America so I could make a transfer from savings to checking before I paid my bar tab?

Remember all the times I took pictures of really pointless things and then made really pointless captions that I thought were hilarious, and then shared them instantly with my 700 Facebook friends? The Book says I did this 36 times, but who's counting.

And remember how you would help me instantly edit PG-13 wall posts on my profile before my dad could log in?

And at night, how you would play soothing, rain-like sounds until I fell asleep? Sure, you would sleep too, but you would always wake up in time for work.

Remember the first morning you woke me up, how you used your default alarm and I thought my apartment was on fire? You had such a good sense of humor.

Remember how on especially sleepy Friday mornings, when Friday morning itself wasn't enough to jumpstart me, you would make me virtual toast? And then I'd force you to make more and more rounds of virtual goodness, until I was certain that every coworker had seen it, twice?

And on Friday afternoon, you would let me drink virtual beer for free. It was always happy hour with you.

And when I did arrive at real people happy hour, you would keep me entertained by letting me dress up a picture of myself with Lady Gaga accessories. I felt just like her. Thank you for allowing me to reach virtual pop stardom, despite my inability to carry a tune in real life.

Thank you for allowing me to delete voicemails without listening to "Hey, give me a call when you get this" first.

And for so much more.

It's hard to believe you are helping people sell crack now. I'm sure the hoodies are big fans of your free virtual happy hour. But I hope you freeze up for them, like you did for me. Replaying the same 2 seconds of beer pouring sound effects until the right combination of buttons are pushed for 30 seconds, while holding your nose, upside down.

I went to your mothership this weekend and I couldn't bear to replace you with one of your cousins just yet. I got a redheaded Samsung stepchild instead.

He's ok. Sometimes I still try to expand his browser with my fingertips, but he doesn't get it yet. Maybe one day.

Thank you for the memories iBaby and god speed on the streets.

Should you ever break free and return home, I will have my $.99 ready and waiting to download an app and make you some virtual cookies.