What? Was that not subtle? Okay, I admit, it might have seemed like a shameless ploy to drive up my blog traffic, asking you to tell all your friends. But it wasn’t. Shameless. I’m full of shame about it. I was just kind of hoping to sneak in a little boost without having to figure out how it is properly done by people less lazy than myself (so…pretty much everyone).
Here is my weird problem. I hope you weren’t hoping for something related to sex, because although that would probably increase my traffic exponentially, that’s not what this is about. That would be another blog. Written by someone else. Sex is just not really what I do. I mean not what I write about, not—okay, listen. Focus. It’s just something else, okay? (now that I’ve built this up, let me ease you down gently…)
I have a phone phobia. Not that, oh I don’t really like to talk on the phone kind of thing. It’s much worse. I’ve met you guys who pretend you can relate. With all due respect, you have no idea what it’s like to be in my head when the phone rings. Luckily, I have been phone-phobic for so many years that my friends and family are all used to me. They rarely call. Oh, they text…they visit…they just don’t call. Actually wait a minute. They don’t really text that much. Or visit. I mean, do they even like me? Does anyone like me? They "Facebook" like me....but could it be that my self-worth should not be measured in Facebook likes? Could it be that my phone phobia is the sign of much bigger issues? Is it too late to talk about sex?
Me: What?? Why…who…it’s – it’s RINGING!!! That thing is ringing again!! (cowering behind the desk, eyes locked on phone in sheer terror)
Me: Who is it!! WHO IS IT??!! (phone remains silent. You know…except for the ringing)
Me: What if it’s important? My daughters have strict instructions: text first, call as a worst-case scenario. What if I missed their text? What if they are being held captive in their classrooms by a lone gunman? I remember that information night at school…there was much talk of these “code red” things! They have a protocol…turn off the lights and get under the desks. There have been studies proving this to be an effective deterrent to lone gunmen - the sudden switching off of lights and loud scuffling sounds. But what if the gunman is not “lone”? What if he is in cahoots? Do they factor in the cahoots? Cahoots are notoriously unpredictable…
Me: (running to closet and getting inside) They can’t see me here. Ha…and that’s 4 rings now. Surely they’ll give up after 4 rings. (as a shoe clonks me on the head, reasonable thinking starts to creep back in) This is crazy, why am I hiding? They can’t see me - it’s a phone! Technology hasn’t come that far yet, please. That was just a movie. There are no tiny little hidden monitors placed strategically---FIVE!! FIVE RINGS! Will it ever go to voicemail? Will I ever figure out how to set the number of rings before it goes to voicemail (ideal number of rings: zero)
Me: I’m going to answer. This is ridiculous. I am ridiculous. It could be one of my parents. What if someone has had a stroke. I have to stop this behaviour. People have strokes! (I exit the closet warily…force my chin up, ready to be the hero/good daughter/nurse/normal person/phone-answerer…and take hesitant steps towards the phone. I pick it up as my heart bangs around in my chest)
Me: Are you kidding me right now? A hang-up?! Do you believe this? Ugh, what a waste of my time. Calling and just hanging up, how incredibly rude. People have no respect nowadays. (returning to my computer, I carry on as if I didn’t just have an epic freak-out about the phone ringing and I don’t acknowledge that I should be grateful that more people don’t call me)
So it’s a problem. I know I need help. I know you worry, but don't call me...I’ll call you (I won’t) (I’m sorry).