Please Stop Texting Me: A Dinosaur’s Guide to Actual Conversation

Let me start by saying: I don’t like texting. I didn’t like it when it first came out, and I don’t like it now. Even back in the early 2000s when everyone was frantic about texting, to me it meant pressing the number “7” four times just to type the letter “S,” and I wasn’t impressed. Everyone else was giddy about this “new way to communicate,” but I was observing the other monkeys wondering why we suddenly needed to be T9-certified stenographers just to say “What’s up?” Texting one-handed in your pocket (away from prying eyes) was cool at times, but we weren’t spies so the allure wore off quickly for me. Texting in church without your parents knowing wasn’t equal to stopping a bomb plot or cracking the DaVinci Code.

Lucky for me, there was a glorious built-in excuse back then that limited my immediate involvement - texting plans. My cell phone’s texting plan was 200 texts a month. That’s it. Sending and receiving. If you went over, you paid extra and some of those bills for going over were huge. So if I ignored your message in 2006, it wasn’t personal - I was just saving precious text fuel. No one could be mad at you for not responding as long as you said, “Sorry, I’m nearing my text limit.” That simple response meant you didn’t have to text back, and if you said it regularly each month, people just assumed that was the case. I still carry that same spirit today—even in this dark age of unlimited messaging, gifs, photos, videos, links, and the ever-expanding world of emojis.

In my opinion, Texting Is for Three Things:

1. You’re asking a simple yes/no question.

2. You’re confirming a time/place for something.

3. You don’t want to talk to that person on the phone.

That’s the Holy Trinity. Anything beyond that, and I’m out. Don’t rope me into an hour’s long exchange just because you’re bored during your lunch break. If you send me a paragraph, I will read it, process it, and respond with “gotcha” or “sounds good.” That’s not me being cold—it’s me fighting against the magnetic pull that my phone can have on me. I have things to do and losing little bits of time to my phone’s screen adds up quickly and I don’t get enough sleep as it is.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit—texting has been a massive blessing for the deaf community and those who communicate with its members. I have a couple of friends, James and Sophie, who are deaf, and let me tell you—they use texting the way it was meant to be used.

Their messages are clever, witty, and intentional. They don’t treat texting like background noise or a place to dump word-vomit all day long. They wield it with care and style. It’s always a pleasure to text with them because they’ve mastered the art of getting personality across in plain text—a surprisingly rare skill.

So yes, there are great uses for texting… but unfortunately, those examples are few and far between.

Let me tell you something that kills me in the dating world: people want to text. All. The. Time.

I’ll meet someone cool and we’ll exchange numbers. That’s the win! I made a move and got your number. Let me bask in that victory for a bit. You want to send a few flirty texts back and forth - perfect. It’s just added fuel to the victory lap that I’m taking and bragging to my friends. But god forbid I put my phone on a charger and step away because BAM—I’ll come back to a whole string of texts that I’m scrolling back to the beginning of. It might start as flirty but at a certain point, things will take a turn for the worst and the last text will say, “Okay, well I guess you’re busy. 😐” Yes. I was busy. Living. Thriving. Putting my phone down and doing something wild like making dinner or folding laundry.

Being off my phone for an hour is a nice break sometimes but when you come back to a barrage of texts like that, it’s like I missed an entire season of a show. There’s confusion, emotional whiplash, maybe even a plot twist. What started as “What’s your favorite pizza topping?” has morphed into, “I just don’t get why people ghost.”

I wasn’t ghosting. I was making another failed batch of deviled eggs.

Here’s a wild idea: If it’s important, call me. If we’re in the talking stage of a new relationship, let’s talk. I love conversing with someone new. Hearing your voice and more importantly, your laugh is incredible. Learning about you from your actual voice allows me to learn a lot about you: your sense of humor, the emotion that you give to stories or confessions, the melody of how you speak, word choices and fun, little tangents that you can’t help go off on. I can gauge the levels of passion that you speak with: from your favorite music and movies to your pets and family. I can hear the excitement in your voice about something you’re looking forward to or the dread you have about how quickly Monday’s work week is approaching. I love speech and language and texting robs me of that. Having to learn all of that from texts feels like dating a criminal communicating only with their cut-and-paste ransom notes. I don’t want texting to be the main form of communication with someone important to me and seeing couples who built their relationships on the backbone of texting bore me.

If we’re just friends, you’ve received phone calls from me in the past, and you need a timely response, call me. Let’s get in, get out, and get on with our lives. Five minutes, tops. Bonus points if we end the call with a solid “Alright, that’s all I needed. Bye for now.” It’s clean. Efficient. Beautiful. (Chef’s kiss)

Another thing I don’t enjoy about texting? The murder of grammar and spelling.

Nothing takes me out of a conversation faster than “definetly,” “your welcome,” or “could of.” I’m not saying I’m not a snob… but I am someone who believes we’re witnessing the slow normalization of a bastardized form of the English language. People refuse to read books, and instead, they regurgitate whatever feelings they’ve absorbed from TikTok clips or sitcom dialogue, stripped of context and butchered in spelling.

When used constantly, text shorthand isn’t just lazy—it’s revealing. It tells me you probably don’t know what the full phrase is, what it means, or worse—you don’t care. I’m not saying I lose respect for people who text like that… but I am saying I’d rather not text with them again.

Now, I get it—language evolves. Slang becomes mainstream, new words are born, and phrases that once sounded ridiculous eventually earn their spot in the dictionary. I’m all for creativity and natural progression. That’s how we got words like “selfie” and phrases like “ghosted.”

But here’s the thing: if language is going to evolve, the way we use it matters. Spelling, grammar, and phrasing are what cement words into cultural permanence.

So when someone says, “You know what I meant,” as an excuse for being sloppy with their words, I don’t buy it. Yes, I know what you meant. But you still said it wrong. And if you’re not even trying to say it right, you’re not evolving the language—you’re just eroding it.

This is why face-to-face interactions are superior. You can’t see spelling errors when someone talks. Unless they spell things out with their hands like a cheerleader. And if they do that? That’s a red flag, but at least it’s a flag I can see in real time.

What I really want—what I dream of—is a world where quick, concise phone calls are the norm. No small talk. No guilt. Just:

“Hey, do you still have my charger?”

“Yup. I’ll bring it Friday.”

“Cool. That’s all I needed. Bye for now.” click

Sounds like the wet dream of Alexander Graham Bell, doesn’t it? Well, I share that legend’s fantasy and you should too! Let’s make that old man’s dream come true!

We don’t need to recap our days, analyze our dreams, or discuss the weather in 40 back-and-forth snippets where I’m forced to be on my phone. We need to exchange information like two normal humans using our actual voices.

So the next time you text me and I take two hours to respond—or I hit you with a “cool” when you send me six emotional bullet points—don’t take it personally. I just… don’t like texting.

I’m not ignoring you. Hopefully, I’m doing better things than looking at my phone and waiting for time to go by. Phones have their purposes, but more people need to unplug from theirs and spend more time outside or with people they enjoy being with.

And while we’re at it—can we talk about how people are never without their phones, even in the bathroom? Look, unless you’re doing your makeup or brushing your teeth, your phone doesn’t need to be in there with you. If you’re showering—leave it outside. If you’re pooping—don’t take it in there with you. Seriously.

The fear of being handed someone else’s phone, knowing it’s been in the blast zone of microscopic fecal particles, lives rent-free in my brain. Your hands are gross. Your habits are gross. And frankly, most of you are taking way too long to drop a deuce because you’re locked-in doomscrolling on your filthy porcelain throne.

Here’s a tip: Get a Squatty Potty. Put your phone down. Handle your business and give the process the adequate attention and respect that it deserves. You’ll have an easier time pushing through the hard times and you’ll avoid the hemorrhoids that I’m so tired of hearing about.

I’m just waiting for the world to rediscover the magic of a quick phone call and a real conversation. Until then, I’ll keep sending short replies, dodging group chats like potholes, and praying for the much-needed renaissance of in-person interactions.

And if that makes me a dinosaur?

Good. At least dinosaurs didn’t have to deal with fecal-derived hepatitis… or autocorrect.