Confessions of a rapid-fire texter

I alienated a good friend with whom I used to text and talk frequently. Why? Because I couldn’t keep my thumbs still during a three-way text conversation. I couldn’t stop replying to her with snark and cynicism.

Another three-way text group fell apart when I felt the other two were ganging up on me. I went into pre-emptive attack mode, then cut off all communication.

I started a “question of the day” segment in a family text group. We’d talk about everything from movies to politics. But despite several warnings from loved ones that some of my responses were judgmental and that I was too quick to attack an opinion, I all but killed that group text. It had a good 12 people in it. We’d shared laughs, encouragement, and funny memes. It took only one conversation – which I was in the middle of – to end it. 

I realized that I had a problem. Truthfully, I may still have one. But thankfully, I took a look inside and realized that the issue was me, and not everyone I harbored ill feelings toward because I thought they were being obnoxious.

The conduit for – and amplifier of – my problem is the smartphone. 

Before smartphones enabled instant communication, people talked on the telephone. But there was no satisfying way to get 12 people on one phone call. A group that large had to be in person – an even better way to communicate. In person, you could hear the cadence and inflection of what someone said. You could interject a “What do you mean by that?” to correct a misunderstanding before it got out of hand. Much less was left to the imagination. 

Don’t get me wrong: I love a good group text. Whether it’s three people or 10, I love sharing laughter or discussing current events. It makes me feel connected to people in a way that I just can’t seem to anymore, now that I have a wife and kids. I can’t spare the time to call friends or family and talk for hours, because we all have responsibilities. 

I recall text arguments I’ve had with my wife. I knew immediately after sending the text that it was wrong, but I just had to respond. My relationship with her is the biggest influence, the biggest reminder that I need to take a breath and put my phone down for a moment before I respond. At times it may be best not to respond at all, in fact.

I’m learning, but I had a relapse recently. I joined a new text group that included a handful of guys I’d gone to elementary school with. Most of us are fathers and spouses now. We share pictures and stories about our kids, and reminisce about our childhood. Mostly we comment on sports.

I should have left it at that, but instead I introduced my “question of the day” feature. I fooled myself into thinking that I was fostering a healthy debate on current events. No. Others in the group saw it as me trying to prove that my way was the right way. Then I made the mistake of sharing some personal information that one friend had told me during a phone conversation. I thought everyone knew. I didn’t give it a thought. 

Then this friend started referring to me as “The Feds” and saying that I was a snitch. We are Black men from Philadelphia. “Snitch” and “The Feds” are not terms of endearment. Instantly, I shot back. This continued for a time. 

Then I realized my friend was doing it whenever I started trying to engage people and ask questions. So I asked him about it – in person. That’s when he told me I’d shared sensitive information he hadn’t told anyone else. I felt awful, as I should have. I apologized profusely and came away from the conversation more determined to slow down my texts. 

My new resolve seems to be working. You should be pleased to know that I have refrained from making a few points that I was tempted to make in individual and group texts. I kept myself from punching a fiery response into my phone immediately after receiving what I considered a provocative text. In some cases, I didn’t even respond. I haven’t lost any more connections by doing this. 

I’m learning. Sometimes fast is just too fast.