Saturday, October 13, 2007

If these phones could talk

I got rid of my text messaging when I was living in Portland last fall. A variety of factors led to the decision: zero social life, zero money, several ex-boyfriends, etc.

Back in New York, I heard from friends on a daily basis about how much they hated having to call me. How much easier it would be if I just had texting.

It was only once I started dating someone that I finally caved and picked up (flipped open) my phone and called Verizon to sign up for a modest monthly texting plan. My friends saw right through me, but they texted anyway.

It felt good to be back. My motorolla tried to fill in the words before I finished typing and I had to be careful to correct it. I'd want to type "good" and the phone would just assume "home." I'd dial 43, it would give me "if," and I'd select "he" instead. It took time, but it eventually adjusted.

I'm no longer seeing the guy, but I'm now used to texting. My phone has kept track of the transition. It has returned to banking on it being "home" rather than "good." I'll go for "on," and it will give me "no." I recently tried to say "my" and, I swear to god, it made the leap to "oy." That pretty much says it all.

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