Nat Locke: The algorithm thinks I need a new pillow. My nine-year-old bag of feathers says otherwise

The government is proposing a world in which we can opt in to our social media algorithm, rather than just have it decide what we get to see. As far as I can tell, this would mean I would have to search high and low for capybara videos myself, rather than just have an endless supply of capybaras delivered to the palm of my hand.

It turns out the capybaras are beside the point, though, because what I want to talk about is what is currently being advertised to me: pillows.

Social media has decided that I need a new pillow. I didn’t think I did, but once you’re presented with a dozen new pillow options, it’s hard not to start thinking “maybe I DO need a new pillow.”

Pillows are a very personal choice. There is nothing worse than a hotel pillow that does not suit your specific needs. I’ve had my own Goldilocks moment all too often when I’ve flung random pillows from an expensive hotel bed for being too hard or too soft or too high or too low.

And while I’m confessing, forgive me, for I have committed many pillow crimes against myself in my life. Like the time I tried an inflatable pillow when I went camping. As if camping isn’t horrific enough, an inflatable pillow is a crime against humanity. It’s scarily reminiscent of an inflated goon bag, except when you’re using an inflatable camping pillow, you haven’t enjoyed the luxury of imbibing a whole box of goon.

Also featuring heavily in my array of “never again” pillows are those neck pillows you buy at the airport because you can’t fathom a long-haul flight without one, but you never remember to take the one you purchased last time.

I have always quietly scoffed at those people who won’t go anywhere without their pillows. How pathetic, I used to think. But now I’m starting to see where they’re coming from. Given I used to make a living as a chiropractor, perhaps I should have been more understanding all along. Because once you find your soul pillow, it’s very hard to use anything else.

The problem with your soul pillow though, is that they have a tendency to get old and manky. The weight of all of your nocturnal drool will eventually take its toll. A quick google told me that pillows should be replaced every two to five years and I can wholeheartedly assure you that, in my case, that has not happened at all.

I thought my bed and pillows were only around four years old, but when I checked, I actually bought them in 2017. MY PILLOWS ARE NINE YEARS OLD. That’s a LOT of drool.

And yet, when I lay my head on that pillow tonight, I’ll know deep in my soul that there is nothing out there that is more comfortable, or more supportive (both emotionally and physically) than my nine-year-old bag of feathers.

So yeah, the algorithm can serve up fancy new pillows all it likes. I’m not going to turn my back on my faithful comrade just because there’s some hussy with memory foam and advanced cervical support winking at me from my Instagram feed.

I guess I should opt out of the algorithm after all.