A little rant

I hate texting. No, not hate, loathe. If I were to ever meet the person who invented texting I would give them a big ole' Archie slap right across their face. (Side note: if you don't know what an Archie slap is, check out Guy Ritchie's RocknRolla immediately.) I would slap them and then I would storm away in a huff.

Sure, texting is useful for some things. When my roommate's at work and I need to remind her to pay the bills when she gets home, it would be inappropriate to call, but I will probably forget before I actually see her, so I send her a quick text to remind her. When I'm bored in class, I occasionally text to pass the time. The other day my mother sent me a picture of their Christmas tree and it was nice because a phone call describing it would not have done it justice. If I want to tell someone something quick that doesn't need any sort of response, a text works nicely. So, I admit that it's useful at time, but in general, I hate it.

And I can't escape because that's the primary way that people are communicating. I can't remember the last time my phone rang and it was anyone other than my mother or father calling. People text, so I text. I'm just like everyone else--I want to be kept in the loop and I'm afraid that I'll miss all the gossip and invitations to do stuff if I didn't.

I hate how fake everyone is through text. It's like how I imagine online dating to be--you're only going to show your best side and hide away all your craziness and neurosis to unleash at a time when you are having that actual, rare face-to-face interaction. I hate getting to know someone through texting. It takes me an hour to think of something clever, yet casual, to say, and then another hour analyzing what I sent and thinking of all the better things I could have said. And by then he's responded and I have to think of more endearing things to say.

I'm not witty over text. I'm not funny or engaging. I came across as soulless and flat as the piece of technology that I’m being read and analyzed over. You can't be sarcastic over text or pick on someone affectionately--you end up coming across as a snide, rude bitch. Which I am not. (Obviously.)

And then you find yourself sitting with your phone in your lap, willing it to go off, channeling all of your telekinetic powers to tell that phone to flash the message you've been waiting for. And when it doesn't, you obsessively read through your text conversation, searching for what you said wrong. Did he really think that funny story that you sent him was funny or was his "haha" just being polite? And maybe you should have been a little more open-ended and inviting with your responses to his questions. Remember all that craziness and neurosis that I was talking about before? Well it's in full force now.

I have a phone. It dials and accepts calls. Try it sometime. We can have an actual conversation. You can use that conversation to ask me out on a real date, where I can be awkward and vulnerable instead of just being a series of perfectly pieced together texts. I'll say something, you can say something back, you can ask questions, I can answer them and ask you more, and we can really get to know each other, neurosis and all.