Days in the Life of Mo

There was a time when owning a BlackBerry meant you had arrived.
Not metaphorically. I mean, you physically arrived, because your BlackBerry told everyone before you even walked in. The flashing red light, the subtle click of the trackball, the quiet confidence of someone with BBM contacts and a purpose.

We didn’t just use our phones. We were in relationships with them.

And then, somewhere between a Steve Jobs keynote and the slow rise of touchscreen narcissism, that love story fell apart.

The Honeymoon Phase

BlackBerry wasn’t just a phone… it was status.
When it launched in 1999, it was revolutionary: push email, real-time messaging, and a keyboard that made you feel like you were typing the next great novel.

Business people loved it. Teenagers loved it. Presidents loved it. (Yes, Barack Obama refused to give his up in 2009, that’s love.)

In 2011, BlackBerry controlled over 43% of the U.S. smartphone market and over 20% globally. Their encrypted network made it the go-to choice for governments and corporations. You couldn’t walk into a boardroom, or a high school cafeteria, without seeing someone BBM-ing under the table.

But every love story has that moment. The one where you stop replying right away. The one where something new catches your eye.

Enter: the iPhone.

The Affair

When Apple announced the iPhone in 2007, BlackBerry laughed.
Literally. Mike Lazaridis and Jim Balsillie, the co-CEOs of Research In Motion (RIM), thought the touchscreen fad would fizzle out. “People need physical keyboards,” they said.

Oh, sweet summer children.

The iPhone didn’t just change how we used phones. It changed what a pho,ne was. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about emails and efficiency, it was about experience. Apps, music, photos, games, touch.
Apple sold dreams; BlackBerry sold discipline.

And as it turns out, people preferred dreams.

By 2013, BlackBerry’s market share had plummeted to less than 1%. The company tried to adapt; touchscreen models, Android compatibility, a brief affair with nostalgia… but it was too late. The world had moved on.

Like every tragic romance, they didn’t lose because they were unloved. They lost because they refused to change.

The Breakup

I remember my last BlackBerry.
It was the Curve 9300, matte black, scuffed at the corners, and shaped like a small promise. When I switched to Android, it wasn’t excitement I felt, it was guilt.

The breakup was quiet. No grand announcement. Just fewer updates, fewer users, until one day, the BBM ping stopped echoing.
In January 2022, BlackBerry officially shut down its legacy services. No more BBM. No more nostalgia-powered logins. Just silence.

They pivoted to cybersecurity., a wise business move, but emotionally, it felt like seeing your ex thriving in a LinkedIn post about “the next chapter.”

Why It Still Hurts

Maybe what hurts most is that BlackBerry wasn’t bad. It was just stubborn.
They bet on security while the world bet on selfies.
They designed for professionals while everyone else designed for people.

And maybe that’s the real tragedy, being right at the wrong time.

The Ghost in Our Pockets

Sometimes, when I get a notification on my iPhone, I miss the click of a real keyboard.
That tactile certainty that something you typed actually existed.
Now, it’s all smooth glass and ghost taps.
We traded intimacy for convenience, and I can’t help but wonder if we’ll ever go back.

---

So, tell me:
Did you ever own a BlackBerry? What was your BBM status back in the day, and do you kind of miss that little red light, too? Drop your memory in the comments. Let’s mourn (and laugh) together.

---

Enjoyed this post?
Subscribe for more nostalgic tech musings and honest reflections from your resident dev girl… who still sometimes dreams in QWERTY.