Three Days without a Cell Phone and Counting

I’d been late to the cell phone fad, er, necessity a few years ago. My life, as I know it, began only, and only, thereafter. Meaningless conversations arise often, “Whats up? Nothin. You? Nothin…” – I’ll spare you the liveliness (along with the degradation of the English language), to someone 15 miles away from me while I wait for my class to start; my cell phone has filled a void. The void of profound nothingness. Mind you, it wasn’t there before. It had been created. By word of mouth, via a cell phone nonetheless. To the chagrin of my cell phone provider, Cingular, I am not dead. Although, I feel different. Others, those who may have called me, may be wondering if I really am dead, “Dude, why isn’t he answering his phone, whore!?” or “You get a hold of Marc? He’s probably jackin it now. Sick bastard!” See Cingular and my friends would cry and eulogize. Cingular would avenge my death, “No more 10 cent text messaging! Who did it? I’ll cut his balls off my damn self!” While my cohorts would be dumbfounded as to why I was “dissing” them by not answering their phone call.

As I mentioned, I did feel different. Lonely. Insecure. Lousy. No, that’s what “they” would want me to say. I liked it. I didn’t have to answer to anyone. I didn’t have to check my phone every so often, to see if someone texted me or called. It was pleasant. I was away from the world. But no, I am told days later I missed a party! Fuck me! What did I really miss, I wondered? Getting drunk? Making others amused because I acted like a fool? No, I missed the chicks, dude! Yeah, that girl who’s there with her boyfriend yet decides to let loose. After a few tequila shots, she’s dancing. And of course I’m dancing. Then she starts her tease. That inviting grind – shaking her ass in my direction that begs my attention. I’ll gander at her boy, who is content with his girl “whoring” tonight, while he chills in the shadows knowing he’ll end up with that later in the night. No matter how much I try or flatter her with my renditions of popular dances or upbeat attitude, no soup for me. I will partake in this tease for the fun of it but thinking ‘I so want to slap this bitch’s ass!’ Yes, I missed the teasing drunk blonde, tisk, tisk.

I did get something done. I got the time to write. Well, then that confirms one of the three feelings mentioned above. I had pure alone time yet while not necessarily productive, it was stimulating. I was free from my social network for some nights and days. Hmm, I paid for those days – so I paid not to be bothered? To create a semblance of availability? I pay for a tangible connection to others. It’s just sometimes my phone fails to yield intangible experiences.