A love letter to my Dyson vacuum cleaner (aka my new life partner)

After all these years alone, Kerri Sackville has entered a committed relationship. And it’s one she’s very happy about.

“How’s the dating going?” people ask me regularly. “Anyone special on the scene?”

Since my divorce five years ago I have become used to batting away these questions.

But now, friends, I have some news to share. After all these years alone, I have entered a committed relationship. He has moved in with me and my kids, and we are both very happy.

Well, I’m very happy. He doesn’t actually have feelings. He’s a vacuum cleaner. A cordless one.

A Dyson.

This is not a sponsored post. This comes from my heart. My Dyson has brought me what so many men recently have failed to deliver: joy.

My Dyson is attractive and talented. He is tall and has excellent posture. He has a couple of different speeds to suit my needs; he can suck pretty powerfully or be gentle if I prefer.

But this is just his physicality. What is far more important is his commitment to my happiness.

A thing of beauty.

My Dyson is all about me. He gives no thought to himself (arguably because he doesn’t have any thoughts). He is available whenever I want him in action, and when I don’t — when I’m off living my full, rich, independent life — he stands quietly in the corner, waiting for me to return.

My Dyson doesn’t argue with me. He doesn’t hassle me to turn him on. He doesn’t insist that I spend time with his boring friends, Steam Mop and Broom. And he doesn’t hog the remote. What would be the point? He can’t watch TV. He’s a vacuum cleaner.

And he keeps me interested. There’s always something new. After all, he comes with a selection of heads. I mean, I know men who have two faces, but none have several heads.

More significantly, however: my Dyson is cordless. Do you understand what I’m saying? He’s not attached! Given my history of liaisons with men who turn out to have partners, I cannot stress enough how thrilling this is.

The beloved Dyson v10 cordless vacuum

Even better, my Dyson is good with my kids. He doesn’t try to discipline them or be a father figure, because he’s just a machine who sucks up dirt. To be honest, the kids aren’t super keen on spending time with him, but they don’t seem to mind him living with us, and they barely grizzle when he comes in and cleans up their rooms.

I did have to fork out a lot of money for my Dyson. He certainly wasn’t a cheap date. But I’m perfectly prepared to invest in my relationships. You only get out of your partner what you put in, which, in my case, is some cat hair, dust, a few crumbs, and the odd bit of paper.

And, unlike other men I’ve invested in, I know he’ll stick around for at least the next four years. He’s not going to go back to his ex-girlfriend, or hook up with a hot young blonde thing, or decide he’s not ready for a commitment after I’ve deleted all my dating apps! He will be there for me, through thick (dust) and thin. And if he dies, god forbid, or breaks one of his heads, he’ll be replaced with another, free of charge. No man has offered me that kind of guarantee.

So thank you all in advance for your congratulations and warm wishes. I am very happy in my new relationship. We have no plans to walk down the aisle anytime soon, because I don’t have an aisle in my home. Dyson and I will, however, be walking down the hallway later today, and then around the kitchen, and through the living room.

You are all very welcome to attend.