Dear Stephen
We're texting more than ever, and, like society, the texts themselves are getting worse and worse.
That's a conclusion cobbled together from the Pew Internet and American Life Project,
which found that the median number of texts adults send and receive in a
day doubled from 2009 to 2010, and much anecdotal observation from the
authors.
Read on to learn just how
terrible silent cell phone users are these days, and the five texts
that should never traverse that satellite-banked arc from your hands to
the eyes of another.
1. "I think we should see other people."
It isn't just skittish teenagers pulling this rude move. Last year, a survey from Lab 42
found that 33% of adults (adults!) had broken up with someone via text,
e-mail or Facebook. Forty percent said they "would never" do it,
indicating that 7% of the surveyed humans are soulless jerks who haven't
but would hurtfully sever ties with a lover if only someone would
respond to their advances.
Yes, breaking up is hard.
Knowing you're going to hurt someone you cared about with your words
indeed makes your stomach do some Cirque de Soleil-esque acrobatics. But
shooting over a one-way missive to deliver the news for you? It's
supremely cruel, because it leaves the other person cocking his or her
head with Fred Willard-esque histrionics
and asking, "Hey, wha' happened?" That complete lack of closure (not to
mention the dearth of soothing, I-care-about-you-as-a-human-being
signals you send with your voice and motions) add up to WAY more
ruminating than is necessary.
The break-up text is only
this much more noble than ghosting on someone you're dating, letting
the silences grow longer and longer until you can tell yourself it was a
mutual separation and then scuttle into the night like a cowardly
cockroach. If you went on enough dates to call this person your
boyfriend or girlfriend, he or she deserves at least a call.
2. "Will you marry me?"
A text proposal. It actually happened, people. And if that isn't innards-wrenchingly horrific enough, after it happened, Miss Manners went on to condone it.
Can we please consider marriage proposals one of the few remaining
bastions of old-fashioned romance, free from the lackadaisical pall that
technology has cast over everything?
Unless you've rigged
some clever feat that ties in the nerdy way you met, your phone should
be put away, your knee should be on the pavement, and your hands should
be clutching a ring, not picking a ringtone.
3. "We're
thinking about going to Shortstop later but Aiden is still napping &
Mona was talking abt having ppl over for a cookout. IDK if I want to be
out in the heat tho since I'm still hungo from Bosco's pirate party
thing last night. Are you and Weeds still... [1 of 2]"
4. "...wandering
around the park or did you want to do something later? Hit me up if you
see this before 10. Gonna go pass out for a while. [2 of 2]"
Texting was supposed to
save us time by letting us bypass the phone call and just instantly
telegraph the important stuff. But we've grown so reliant upon it that
we obliviously miss, Mr. Bean-like, the conversations that could happen
expeditiously over the phone.
So often, we put our
thumbs to work typing out long and convoluted messages that warrant a
detailed, meticulous volley of responses, when wagging our tongues would
have cleared things up in 30 seconds flat. More than half of texters
have "long, personal text message exchanges," according to a 2010 survey. They are all wasting time.
Our rule of (red, raw,
overused) thumb: If your text is longer than two sentences and it
demands a response other than a simple yes or no, just hit Call. You'll
save everyone a little time and a lot of confusion.
5. [a photo of your junk]
According to a Pew Research Center study that is (according to the Times)
due out later this year, 6% of American adults -- that's one in 17
upstanding citizens -- has sent a nude or nearly nude (but not "never-nude") photo on a cell phone. And 15% have received such a text. (Apparently these self-portraitists are prolific.)
Leave something to the imagination, folks.
