I often wonder about the benefits of the technology age. Is this—the era of immediate accessibility and unlimited mobile porn—truly humanity’s finest? I don’t have the answer—all I have is the perspective of a male in his mid-twenties.
I’ve noticed that interacting with the fairer sex has changed in the past few decades (I’m a heterosexual male, so my experience is biased). Please note that my experiences centre around attempts (i.e. failings) to pick-up girls using these handheld beep-boop machines.
So, without further ado, I give you my all-inclusive list of the benefits and grumblings of texting in the digital age.
- The internet will always love me: It doesn’t matter if I’m in line at Costco, Booster Juice or that nerdy gaming store I allegedly visit—a little thing called 4G connectivity fills the bland parts of my life with useless facts that I’ll immediately forget after reading them. Not to mention adorable videos of golden retrievers battling cat memes for Lordship of her majesty The Internet’s domain.
- I can contact anyone whenever I want—and expect a response: Obviously, this goes both ways. (Like a bisexual-shut up Ted Turner!) I’m a huge fan of being a thumb’s click away from your best friend at all times. I’m a bro’s bro, and ‘bromergencies’ demand an immediate response. What if I see Kate Upton in the mall and my buddy’s not there to share in the experience? Thanks Snapchat.
- Applications are better than friends: Whether it be Instagram, Facebook or Tinder (don’t judge), the PlayStore makes sure that my phone’s storage space is filled with content that barely improves my life. Hey—’barely progress’ is still progress. Plus: there’s an entire world of attractive women that can’t help but catalogue every fu*king thing they do. God bless science.
- Getting annoyed at an inanimate object has never been so fun: Have an iPhone? Of course you do. Have an iPhone 5? What’s that—it’s dying? Sorry, I have an iPhone 4S, so my charger won’t fit. Thanks Mr. Jobs!
- Music follows you EVERYWHERE: No sarcasm here, I genuinely like this fact. In my opinion, the creators of Spotify and Songza should replace John and Matthew as gospels.
- Your girlfriend can reach you at ANYTIME: Imagine a time when you could hang out with your friends for ten minutes at, like, a bowling alley. Now, imagine not having to check a small plastic device that’s attached to your person every 13 seconds. This is the world of 2004. Now, insecure lovers have a great excuse to start another boring argument about commitment without all that unnecessary “logic.”
- My phone’s given me the ability to find almost ANYTHING boring: For the past two months I’ve used a phone that takes 2 minutes to load a webpage. Standing in line at Starbucks makes me feel like a P.O.W. in the tent, and the Vietcong are making me watch pre-season baseball. Not the highlights, the ENTIRE game…it’s like 9 innings of dial-up.
- Why just chat? We can watch a video instead! I’m old-fashioned; I actually like to have one-on-one conversations with people USING MY VOCAL CHORDS. Weird, right? Part of it’s the appeal of getting away from screens for a while. Now, with the Gigantosaurus-class phones in the market every coffee shop is beginning to resemble my home theatre room.
- People can contact me WHENEVER they want—and expect an answer: Sometimes, I don’t wanna talk. No, it’s not because of you (it might be). I like my alone time, and I like separating myself from that wireless contraption I’m obligated to carry around. People in the ’90’s had to wait for their friend to get home to contact them, so they can finish their personal errands and marital affairs in peace.
- I have too many friends that are no longer able to maintain a conversation: I get it—you have other sh!t goin’ on. That’s fine. But please, stop putting a hold to our discussion so that you can ask your overbearing ‘life partner’ about their shift at work.
There you have it.
Maybe I’m a grouch, maybe a cynic…maybe both. And don’t get me wrong: I like phones. Not mine—the speaker doesn’t work so all I can do is text.
Basically, I’m paying $70 a month for a pager.
Be grateful for what you have.
(Insert witty and equally thought-provoking sign off here)