Fear of Phones

Why are people (especially teenagers and Cypriots women and men under the age of 50) obsessed with their mobile phones? I love my phone and I need it all the time. However I don’t ring people up all the time and my phone isn’t constantly ringing but when it does… oh lo behold… who could the caller be. My Mum (asking me to do something I should have done a long time ago) or Cake (asking me to try her cake) or PartyAnimal (asking me to party). Or a random I once dated asking for a second night out… (after 4 months? I’m nice not stupid).

What did we do before the times of mobile phones? How did we function? I truly can’t remember. I remember getting a phone in my room when I was 12 in the shape of a frog whose red eyes lit up every time it rang. That’s when I began pranking people, when I couldn’t sleep (but that’s another story). And so getting a mobile, like getting a phone in my room (it wasn’t even my own line) made me feel connected. A little too connected.

And that’s what’s scary. On Saturday night I got two phone calls after 11. I was in bed so I didn’t pick up. But I was embarrassed to be in bed and so pretended to be out at Zoo. When they asked me the next day where I was I said Zoo. ‘Me too’ they responded. Oh ho! Gotcha! ‘Great’ I said and smiled and turned away. ‘What floor?’ my friend insisted. ‘The fifth’ I said. ‘Don’t you mean the fourth?’ he pressed on. Then I used my default answer; ‘I can’t remember… I was drunk!’

So not only can the track you down while you’re at Zoo, but while you’re not at Zoo. And even after Zoo asking why you didn’t go! It’s a scary turn of events these mobiles are. They are mobile and they follow you around like the KGB! Which is why I hardly gave out my home phone. I text only my closest friends. My Dad, the one person who should have all my info, even called me up asking me who I was. He didn’t have my home phone or mobile phone! On the other hand, my Mum can only reach me by email. Plus, when I was telling people about my home line, I didn’t call… I text! How polite!

Remember a few months back when I lost all my numbers on my phone? I loved it. Now I have a fraction of the numbers back and if people text I ask ‘who are you?’ If I don’t like them I’ll pretend I don’t know them. I don’t want to be accessible to every random who I gave my number out to (and believe me, when I go out, I had out my number like Santa hands out gifts). The Americans were right to call it a cell (short for cellular phone). Cell seems the appropriate word as I often feel trapped with my phone. Having a phone is like being tied to a ball and chain in a Kazak prison.

I like text messages. I like getting them because I can view them in my own time. But I get tired of fiddling away at the buttons. I love email more. I told you how email is the love of my life and my longest relationship. Emails… and Margaritas of course. Emails are great – you can email me and I respond right away, unless I have work. But texts, unless you are my friend Barb who emails me random comments that say things like ‘scuzz’ and ‘c u next Tuesday’ then I worry what I will expect. And the thing is… I don’t know why mobiles are such a stressful thing. At the end of the day when people have something serious to say like ‘I don’t love you anymore’ or ‘I’m painting the house black’ they don’t call, email or phone! They just never call you again. You go home to find out that your partner has a) left you or b) turned your stylish apartment into a goth-shack! And then you find the phone bill.

Moral of the story: all this stress about the mobile is unnecessary. Mobile phones though aren’t.