I have a love hate relationship with the phone. Calling something is one of the most intimidating thing. You put yourself out there, trying to connect with someone. And they can choose to answer, not to answer or return call. That’s a scary thought. There is a thousand possibilities and circumstances as to why someone did not take your call. At the end of the day, it’s still a choice, if he/she wants to connect with you.
I always take a call. Anyone who calls has taken the time to dial those numbers and make a connection. It deserves an attention. But that also made me the receiver of news good or bad. My uncle’s death, announced to me with no one at home to take a call. I was 10. My grandmother too, I was 18.
I hate my brother. As teens, we used to fight to use the phone and I never win. My friends get screamed at, called names and they never called again. They are no longer friends.
My friends today. They don’t call back. I cannot tell if they love me or not or all this can be judged by a call. I hate the phone.
I love the phone, when it rings. Someone wants to connect with me.