"You won't believe this!" I said to my husband. "Some friends told me that I was...are you ready for this? They told me I was a bad texter."
"Oh, I believe it," he said. "They're right. You are bad."
"Mom," my teenage son said. "They are most def. You are a terrible texter. Probably the worst."
"OK. Settle down now. You're bad at putting clothes into the hamper."
Just to clarify, in my case, being a "bad texter" doesn't imply that I am a poor speller. Being a "bad texter" means I am not reliable at communicating through text. It is not my primary or preferred way to communicate. I don't send text messages. I don't answer text messages in a timely manner. I don't think about it. I am just not interested in it. I don't know. Whatever. Maybe I'm atextual. (I may be bad at texting, but I am pretty good at word play. Snap!).
In my defense, I have two main excuses:
1. I am just not in the habit of having my smart phone tethered to me.
By this I really mean, I always misplace my smartphone. Is it in the kitchen? Nope. On my dresser? No. How about in my pocketbook? No. The bathroom? The backpack? The dog bag? At the gym? In my coat pocket? On top of the to-be-ironed-pile of clothes? I give up.
Maybe, I should just go back to the days of communicating via carrier pigeon or smoke signal.
"Oh! For goodness sake! What the heck are you burning on the BBQ?"
"Oh, great!" I said. "I am glad you saw the smoke. It's a message. Dinner's at 7."
This is just how I roll these days.
2. Simply put, I just don't have text etiquette (aka textiquette. Word play #2).
My text: Do you want to meet for lunch tomorrow?
My friend's text: Sorry! I can't tomorrow. I'm busty.
My text: Busty?
My friend's text: OMG! Busy! Busy! Autocorrect strikes again!
My text: LOL.
But, honestly, here's the problem, I don't text "LOL". It doesn't even occur to me to text LOL.
But I am LOL-ing...really, truly, physically laughing out loud. And, while I am laughing out loud, I put my smartphone somewhere and promptly forget where I put it and never text my busty friend back. No etiquette.
But, LOL-ing did make me realize that in this textified world, true laughing out loud may be becoming a lost art.
Not on my watch. My analog watch, that is.
"OK, boys," I said to my teenagers one afternoon, "Your mom loves to laugh out loud. It is really important to me that you remember how to do it. I don't want to get too emotional here. But it is not just about typing three letters. So, just as a review, when you laugh out loud, the mouth opens, the face brightens, and then there is a vocal pitch that expresses mirth...you can call it a giggle, a chortle, chuckle, guffaw..."
"OMG. MOM!"
"OK, you know that part. Another critical component of true laughing out loud is the clapping accompaniment. This is also really important. Listen up. One clap is insincere. Two claps sounds like phonics program. The key is three or four slow, evenly-spaced claps. This is how you show enjoyment and appreciation. C'mon! Let me hear and see you clap. Go."
"Mom, I am not clapping."
"That's fine. Some people are knee slappers. It's easy. Right hand to the right knee. One slap to the knee can mean your leg is asleep. Two slaps are a way to call over a pet. Again, the key is three or four slaps to the knee..that's ideal. And, be sure to lean forward a bit too...this is it, boys, now this is how you LOL."
OK, friends, you're right. I'm bad at texting. But, I am good at chatting. Not the instant kind, mind you. Not the 140 character kind. The old-school, in -person, coffee-mug-in hand kind of chatting.
So, if you want to reminisce, have a date for lunch, go on an adventure, or truly LOL, please send me a pigeon or a smoke signal. Or give me a call.
The land line number is probably the best.
