How to NOT Wait by the Phone

We've all played the waiting game at one time or another, staring at a land line or cell phone willing it to ring or vibrate. Be it for the doctor calling with test results, the verdict on the job you interviewed for or the fulfillment of the "I'll call you" promise, it's downright uncomfortable.

I've been in each of these scenarios, but the most frequently occurring for me is waiting to see what a guy meant when he said he'd be in touch.

I have come to conclude (without criticism), that often a guy will say "I'll call you"  when he really means "please get out of my car, now." This seems to be the simplest way to get me to go away. I can't say that I fault the men-folk who have promised a call in the past and not honored it. I wonder if they thought I would burst into tears or refused to get out if they had simply said the truth, which is: "Yeah, let's never do this again. Ever." All this translates to is that I never know what will happen after stepping out of the car.

Often I catch myself creating elaborate stories to explain the silence. I try them on one after another like I'm shoe shopping.
Maybe he was caught in a hold up at the bank and is the only hostage still inside.
Perhaps there was a family emergency and he is fine, but grandma? Well...
He's somehow dramatically injured and whispers to a friend that they need to make a call to a girl, but they don't understand his gibberish.
After trying out a few of these scenarios, I know I have gone a bit batty. Perhaps it's a bit romantic to kill off a potential leading man or to put him in harms way, but also it's really morose and twisted.  Essentially this line of thought says, "I like you enough to fantasize your death as a plausible reason for you not contacting me; this collateral damage is superior to thinking you were lying."
Not good.

What I do know is the waiting game is full of wasted time, emotional energy and fantastical deadly stories, and I'd rather just re-channel all of it.

Here's what I've come up to do instead of waiting for technology to beckon me to converse... or not.
You should try some.

1.) Do something you typically put off.

For me that means either painting my nails and or shaving my legs.
How do girls do these things consistently?
Both take way too much time. And wet nails are essentially a prison sentence. I can't not use my hands, so it's always a mess.

2.) Go on a walk and find things.

While on a long ramble, I found this rock. It told me to turn it over,

and I was in a listening mood, so I did,

and I gave it some relief.


3.) Begin a series of hilarious pranks.
This is Yolanda the pregnant (and formally naked) paper mache yogi. I discovered her after she'd been kicked out of her home. Perhaps she was banished for being with child. Since the time I found her, she's been outfitted and passed along from friend to friend.

 

This week she baked cookies for a friend and delivered them in person.

I plan to write Yolanda a genesis story sometime in the near future.


4.) Write a blog post about not waiting by the phone. 

See what I did here? Yeah? Enough said.



5.) Put your phone somewhere where you can't see it and dance.

Really dance. And shoot, sing too. No one will see or hear and you'll feel better because that's how we were wired.

Be who you are, singing and dancing on the earth. When you do that, a phone, ringing or silent is of little importance.

Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free.” 

― Rumi

Dear Jon (Letter), The Breakup Part II

Returning home with my new phone was problematic.  I left the store glad and sure of my purchase.  I did not get far.

I remained in the parking lot for 20 minutes and became exponentially less certain each minute that I was unable to use said device.  In attempting to send a celebratory text to  my mom, dad, and brother, I found that I could not.
No, I am not that daunted by technology as to not know how to text.  My contacts list had not transferred, or at least the contacts that had are not in my "inner circle." Try as I might, I could only call my mom, because outside of my childhood home phone number this is the only other phone number I know by heart.

Calling mom was not the celebration I had hoped for.  It only made us keenly aware of the expense of adding a third phone to the plan and made me question my resolve to  not go with the confusing Mobile Share + Next program.  Was I only being resistant and stubborn because I like to be resistant and stubborn, I wondered.  Possibly...
The price and the lack of ability to use said expensive thing was upsetting.
I hate buying things.  And probably like every other human on the planet, I hate being made to feel small, especially when it is an object that you own.  It's insulting and I felt it as such.

By the time I got out of the car at my home, I decided that I'd made a terrible mistake.

I wanted out.

This is familiar territory for me: the sheer panic that comes after a commitment.  I have a rather large internal eject button.  I can't explain why. People like to tell me, when it applies to a relationship, that it is a sign that things "aren't right or meant to be," a comforting thought, but seeings how it also comes just as easily with major and minor purchases, I think it's more to do with realizing that I have misgivings and not deciding felt better than making a choice and entering the world of "what if."

Let's just say when I got inside my home I was in tears and crestfallen.  I called Jon alert him of the problem (read: call it off) but he didn't pick up.  I ate lunch (to get my blood sugar up) and then headed back to the store.
The manager checked me in, said "oh you're back" (yes I really was there that long) and Jon came over.

"My contacts aren't in my phone.  I can't text anyone and I think I want an iPhone" I blurted out.
Jon hung his head and sighed.
"I'm sorry.  I just can't do it."
And we went back to the ridiculously tall table and non chairs.

Jon calmed me down and counseled me to keep the phone for another day, because if we changed them out then the manager was going to charge a 35 dollar fee.

I do not know the ending of this yet.  I returned to the store again today, the different manager also wanted the restocking payment, and the iPhones were sold out.

Now I guess the question is, how many trips to the store does it take to get a Smart Phone?
More than three.
But I have survived and thrived this long without one, so what does it really matter?
And for kicks and grins, here's a peek at how I am keeping this phone safe before I switch it out.

Introducing the Smart Sock!

(The store was sold out of protectors.)