But a lot of people do. My father got a smartphone several months ago, long before Dan and I were even considering it. I found this out when I called my dad one day, and he didn't answer. The call went to voice mail, but it wasn't my dad's voice mail. It was some weird default voice mail that didn't even mention my father's name.
"I think my dad might have changed his phone number and forgot to tell me," I said to Dan.
"Maybe you just dialed the wrong number," my husband suggested.
So I tried my dad again. This time, he answered.
He explained that he did, in fact, have a new phone, and that it was taking him longer than usual to answer his newfangled technology. He also told me that my brother and sister-in-law had loaded a picture of the two of them onto his phone's wallpaper.
"They asked me if I could remove it or if I wanted them to take it off before they left. I told them I could figure it out," my dad paused. "I can't figure it out."
A few weeks later, he texted me pictures from Yellowstone.
"I'm glad to see you figured out how to use your smartphone," I texted back.
"It's still smarter than me," was the reply.
When my father started using terms like "LOL," Dan decided we needed to take action and buy new phones. Well . . . and Dan's cellphone wouldn't close or go to vibrate anymore, and my battery only lasted until noon everyday.
Dan started researching smartphones around March so that we could purchase them as birthday presents for the two of us. Occasionally, I would catch him measuring my iPod with a ruler, I guess to compare iPod sizes to the smartphone dimensions on Consumer Reports.
(At this point, I have to take a break in my storytelling to let you know that Dan just caught me typing these last few paragraphs into my phone and asked, "Are you writing your whole blog post on your phone just so that you can say you did?")
The first night after Dan and I had received our phones (which we had ordered via the Internet because we didn't want to talk to people), we sat two feet away from each other on the living room couch and talked on the phone. Then we communicated through text messages. Then we called each other again.
"It's like playing a video game to get the phone icon into the ring-thingy to answer a call," I complained.
"It's so you don't answer an unwanted call by accident," Dan said.
But there are lots of things you can do by accident with these smartphones.
Once, I clicked on "Emergency Call" and instead of canceling, I pressed "Call." It was that easy. I'm still not sure who I actually called, nor am I sure how I got out of it.
Also, I keep (I believe the term is) "butt-dialing" people, although not so much with my butt as with my fingers. I accidentally call people all the time. I have probably "butt-dialed" everyone to whom I have recently talked at least once. When I realize the person on the other line has picked up, I usually react by throwing my phone at Dan and yelling, "Turn it off! It won't turn off! Turn it off!"
Apparently, I called Dan from my purse in Costco. I didn't have anyone to throw my phone at, so he listened to my shopping cart roll down the aisle for a few seconds. Then he hung up when he figured out I was oblivious to the whole situation.
I don't feel so bad though. Dan did same thing to his father yesterday.
During intermission at theater performances or before movies, we both play on our phones now. Yes, we're one of those couples. I used to think those people were more social than Dan and I, that they were texting friends or on Twitter or Facebook. But there is plenty for us nerds to do too. In fact, my introverted husband is surprised when I use my phone for networking purposes.
"Have you been texting your sister-in-law this whole time? Smartphones aren't for communicating. They're for surfing the web."
I leave my phone on vibrate now because I can't handled the strange sounds coming from it all the time. There is a sound for email, Facebook, text messages, phone calls, voice mail, etc. And don't even get me started on the smudges and fingerprints. Whoever invented touch screens did not conduct usability tests on those of us with debilitating germ neuroses.
The other night, I counted seven different mobile devices on our coffee table, and I started freaking out a little bit.
"We live in a technology zoo!" I shouted. My husband laughed.
Dan and I have both become more distracted individuals, as if I needed any help with that. Dan claims it is his new toy, and the newness will wear off soon. But everyone I know who owns a smartphone admits openly (and almost proudly) that their lives have been taken over by these twenty-first century devices. I gave us a ten o'clock curfew on the phones.
The other night, I asked Dan, "Can't we just talk instead of reading before bed? I feel like we haven't seen each other today . . . even though we have spent all day together."
Dan sighed and put down his phone . . . a little too reluctantly.
"I'll talk to you if you want . . . "
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