The glory of text messaging is that you can’t hear the person’s voice at the end of the line. Anyone could be telling us anything and we believe it, as if we know for certain that the person whose name appears in the text message queue is the person who is actually texting us. Even better is the idea that tone can be conveyed in a text message. Suggestive language? Check. Acronym explosion? Check. Large type font? Check, and check! Add in a few smiley faces and we’re set. A whole new language emerges, one that we feel we share with the person at the other end of the connection, even if it turns out not to be the person we wish to hear from.
Have you ever gotten a phone call at home and when you pick up it’s a complete stranger on the line? Odds are if that has happened to you the response you’ve given is, “I’m sorry. You have the wrong number.” Why do we apologize when we didn’t call them? Why are we so sorry that they reached us? We could be just the person they need to speak with. Right? We may have just the words of wisdom to talk them down from the proverbial ledge. Or maybe we’re just the person to appreciate them when they’re feeling unappreciated. At the very least, we’re a friendly soul who wishes no one harm.
Regardless, there is no reason to apologize. If we had said instead, by way of response, “You suck. You can’t even dial the right number,” then there would be valid reason to apologize. But that’s not the way it goes down. The stranger on the other end inevitably replies with, “Oh, is this such and such a number?” He usually says this slowly, number by dragged out number, as if we’re some kind of idiots who don’t know our own number. Dude, you’ve got the wrong person, even if it’s the number you have written down in front of you. Back to the drawing board, but stop bothering me. And I’m still not sorry.
Now imagine that same thing happens in text messaging. What do you text back? Or do you even text back? Statistics show that 9 times out of 10 no return text is sent, as if the original text never happened. I guess we leave it up to the perfect stranger to figure out for himself that we’re not the person he wanted. Not even an apology here, and it’s not even expected. In fact, the stranger on the other end probably has no idea that he’s even gotten the wrong number. He just thinks that his friend, let’s call him Bubba, just isn’t responding to him for some reason. Or maybe he was texting his girlfriend, Amber, and he thinks she’s pissed off at him. Whatever the thought process of this perfect stranger, we can be sure he’s not thinking someone he doesn’t even know just ignored him. Why is it okay to ignore him on text but not so on a house phone? Do we feel it’s okay because it’s just written words? Think about it. If we just slammed the phone down without answering, “I’m sorry…”, would we feel ashamed? Interesting.
The uniqueness of mis-texting, though, is that it lends itself quite easily to misrepresentation. What do I mean by that? Quite simply, unlike vocal conversation, we can fool that same stranger into thinking we are the person he actually wanted to text. Maybe you’ve had a really long day and the people who normally text you have completely ignored you despite your many pleas for social contact. Maybe you just lost your job, your cat was hit by a car, and your favorite television show that night was a re-run. Then you get a text that says, “Hey hot stuff. Wanna come over?” and you genuinely think, “Hell yeah. I’d love to come over.” So almost without thinking you actually respond. You are the 1 out of 10 who returns the text, but instead of the simple, “U have the wrg nmbr”, you settle for, “Why dnt u cm ovr here?” You know you shouldn’t do it, and you tell yourself not to hit “Send”, but you do it anyway. You do it for all the losers out there who are never asked to come over. You do it for everyone who ever felt the need to lash out at society for having more fun than they should, taking your share as well as theirs. You do it for you. For once in your life you do something for you, and to hell with the consequences.
And you aren’t disappointed because the stranger’s response is nearly instantaneous. “B there in 15”. Even though you know she’s not coming to your place, you still get that rush of adrenaline. You made something happen that wouldn’t have happened without you. You stepped up and ran with the wolves for once. Maybe you just brought two people together who will grow old together but who wouldn’t have had the nerve to meet that night? Or maybe you just killed a fledgling relationship that really shouldn’t be moving that fast. But for once in your miserable life, you made a difference. With your words. And you’ll never be the same again.
Sam
Sam's Online Journal 