Dear Everyone,

This is in no way directed at one person, but I’m sure there is more than one person who will take this personally. Don’t. Really. It’s a waste of time because, if this were directed at you, I would take great pleasure in saying it to your face. Really. If you know me in real life, you wouldn’t doubt that for a minute.

Also, this is incredibly overdue. I should have written this about 17 months ago, but I’ve been busy. So, please, consider this the memo. Print it out, frame it and, for the love of God, do your best to abide by it.

First, I must confess that I fucking hate Facebook Messages. Truly. Hate them with the passion of a thousand suns. I get that they can be convenient when you are trying to message a group of people, or if you don’t know the person that well. I get it. But I fucking hate them. Especially if you know me in real life, because then you have my cell phone number and email address. Use one of those for fuck’s sake. I mean, you really want me to have to go into Facebook and then over to Messages to get some random information that you could have personally emailed me? Yeah. Don’t. Really. Facebook is not the center of my universe. It should not be yours either. Branch out.

Second, I fucking hate texts. Yes, I do. I mean, they are great for a quick bit of info (“Running late,” or “Got a table in the back,” or “What kind of martini do you want?”), or for secret conversations you must live-blog to a BFF or something. There are always exceptions to any rule. But, if you have to text me more than three times, you should just email me. And, sweet Jesus, if you are attempting to have a full-on conversation via texts, don’t. Pick up the fucking phone. You know, that thing that you are texting me on? It makes calls, too! And — this one is the kicker — if you know that I am driving, especially if I’m driving to see you, why the fuck would you send me a fucking text? Do you not know the law in the State of California? There is signage everywhere. It’s fucking illegal to text and drive. It kills all sorts of people and makes you look like an über douche while you are doing it. And, what’s worse (because, in case you thought it couldn’t, it does), is the series of texts that I receive while driving demanding a quick answer to the text I previously ignored because I am driving. I am on my way to meet you, asshole. What the fuck do you want me to do? Crash because you need to know if I want Indian or Chinese? Relax, for chrissakes. I’ll be there shortly. Otherwise, I would have called to let you know I’d be late.

Also, I hope you realize that, every time you hit enter/return on your text or Facebook Message, there’s a noise that’s made. And, for those of you who send every single sentence separately, that’s a whole lot of fucking noise. Irritating doesn’t even begin to describe it. But, “needy” might. And, do you know what I really, really, really abhor? “K”. Getting a chime-y, chirpy alert for a one-letter response is the ultimate ass chap. It’s just not worth it. But what I can’t wrap my head around are the truly smart, highly intelligent people I know lessening themselves for: “U R gr8. BRB. TY.” It just leaves me SMH. I mean, have they come up with an emoticon for a middle finger salute yet?

Trust me, I have tried, and tried, and really, really tried to get into the text thing. I’ve respected friends who needed to communicate in that manner while I cringed at every chime. Life is a give and take. Everyone has their thing. But, it didn’t stick. After five years of giving it a go, I’ve had enough.

See, I write. A lot. Sometimes, even for money. So, the last thing I want to do is type texts to human beings that I could actually talk to. And I realize the incompatibility of this, because many of my friends talk for a living. The last thing they want to do is chat more. These are the friends I’ve learned to communicate with telepathically. Try it. There’s a learning curve, but it’s worth it. I might speak to these treasures once every other month, email now and then, and see them once a year, but we are still close. It’s not necessary to know every minuscule detail of our lives. Not that I would mind knowing. But I don’t want to read it, and they don’t want to say it, so we just accept it. And, maybe our friendships are even better for it.

I know I am in the minority here. I realize that the way of the world is all text and Facebook. I get it. But I don’t like it. I’m not that enamored with my cell phone (though, I do love my Galaxy SIII) that I can’t put it down to have an actual conversation (once I check in on Foursquare and maybe send out one *really* share-worthy quote from you on Twitter). My cell phone represents work to me. It is not an extension of my personality. It’s not the connective tissue of our friendship. So, please, don’t treat it as such. And I know that this view will hold me back. It’s already kept me from dating 28-year-old men.

I had a great first date with this youngster. We talked and talked for hours. Closed the restaurant. But, after that night, I never heard his voice again, because all he did was text me. Charming, sweet, funny texts…but just texts. Then, Google Voice and Samsung had a falling out, and I stopped getting text messages from my Google number, which the young lad had because I don’t give out my real cell phone number to just anyone. Anyway, it took me a while to realize what had happened. I logged into my number via Gmail to apologize and let him know that I wasn’t getting texts on my phone. And, you know what he did? He kept texting. Only I didn’t have time to keep logging in to check texts because I am busy and, if I can’t reach someone via text, I actually fucking call them…especially if I have been told texts aren’t the best way to reach them! Finally, Google and Samsung started speaking again, and I got this really old, kind of sad text from the boy that said, “Guess I’m not getting that second date. Sorry to hear that.” Oh, the irony! At the end of the day, it never would have worked out between us. Not necessarily because he was younger, but because I can’t sleep with someone who doesn’t know how to use the phone.

So, there you have it. This is the memo. Communicate with me however you choose. I’m not going to tell you how to live. I am going to say that, if you don’t hear back from me, you might want to try another method. xo