An Open Letter To The Guy Who Said Something About My Phone Usage:
I realize that you have no way of knowing my friend and I had just spent the previous 10 hours in an all day conference. I realize that you were not aware that this was the first opportunity for both of us to check our email, read the news, text the people in our lives or, for fuck’s sake, look at Twitter. I realize that you didn’t know that we are two people who work and socialize together frequently and, really, just didn’t have anything else to say to each other in that moment.
We choose to grab a beer before heading home so we could wind down before heading back to real life, the unanswered emails that had accumulated during the day, the dog to be walked, the dinner to be cooked, the stack of mail to be opened. Neither of us were looking for an intimate and deeply connecting time. Just a beer. And a chair not in a windowless conference room.
Which should explain why I reacted so harshly when you started in with your judgmental tripe about how we’re probably texting each other and can’t even talk to each other in person.
I can talk to people just fine in person, which I hope I demonstrated clearly when I pointed out that my phone usage isn’t your concern. You certainly didn’t seem interested in engaging in a conversation after that.
It can be difficult to adjust to change. It’s human nature to resist it and yearn for how things used to be, a past which we remember more fondly than we experienced. I don’t yearn for that. I enjoy living in a time where, practically anywhere in the world, I can pick up a phone and call my dad. I like being able to keep up with my friends’ lives, see their kids grow up, experience their travel and, yeah, even see what they are eating for dinner. I love the access to media that I have at my fingertips.
But even if I was ignoring my friend and playing Candy Crush, I still didn’t invite you into my life to comment on my behavior.