Closing the texting gap
Don't worry, I'm on it!
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Have you ever read something so immediately and searingly true that before even finishing the thing yourself, you’ve already texted it to everyone you know? If you’re anything like me you do that about once a week and two weeks ago the article in question was this one, in The Atlantic:
The agony of texting with men. LOL FOREVER amirite? Sure, it’s hard to keep track of where we are on the gender pay gap. There may yet be people out there who aren’t aware of the orgasm gap. But surely no one needs to be told about the texting gap?! We are living it daily.
But still, there’s nothing quite like seeing a universal truth set out in engaging copy (as one person wrote in the comments: “I’ve never seen a article basically titled ‘Men Can’t Even Do The Bare Minimum’ written so nicely”) and so off it went, winging its way to my friends and lovers via the medium of… well, text, obviously.
One of the people I sent it with lightning-like speed to was my husband who actually isn’t bad at texting. If anything he texts too much. Things like “On my way home, this train carriage smells of peri peri” and then two minutes later “need a wee, should have gone in the pub” and then thirty eight seconds later “are there any dinner leftovers?” and then five point two seconds later “oh balls, I don’t think I’ve got any choc”. However, as is so often the case in human relationships, the thing that annoys you about a person is the flipside of the very thing that attracted you to them in the first place. And let me tell you, our early text exchanges were on fire. But that was way back in 2009 when texting was still fun and flirty. Now it’s just a drag.
Around this time last year, I wrote about how I fell out of love with texting and it had quite an incredible response. For some people it resonated deeply. Others felt annoyed, even aggrieved by it. You can’t just NOT TEXT?!!!
And it’s true, you can’t. The fact that men are statistically shit at it is making them lonelier. The reason I sent it to Rob in the first place is because I knew he’d had his own disappointments trying to connect with mates, make plans, build new friendships. This is not a positive. This is not aspirational. It is 2025 and it is not actually possible to have a relationship—any sort of relationship—if you are not prepared to text.
I mean, maaaayyyybbbbeee you could get away with only ever calling? Or voicenoting. But I can’t see it being popular. I actually have a deeper discussion of this planned for next week when I’ll be writing about whether 2025 is the year we’re going to break up with our phones, but for now let’s just agree that some texting is necessary. The question is, how much?
“It kind of takes a lot of social energy out of me,” said one interviewee in the Atlantic piece. God knows, I feel that. It’s hard enough juggling my actual, tangible social life with parenting, work, and life admin, without having to devote time and attention to being a good texter. And for the people who think “it’s just a reply, I’m not expecting an essay,” yes, my darlings, but you are not the only ones wanting a reply from me! At any given moment I would estimate I am in text debt to approximately four or five people. Elsewhere I saw a man describe the pressure of needing to send a ‘proper reply’ to a message as akin to the feeling of homework hanging over them.
At the very least, texting is admin. And admin is a kind of work. And so actually, while I instantly recognised the behaviour being described, and nodded along to the theories and explanations, my overriding feeling was not “why are men?” but “why aren’t women?”
Why aren’t more women simply responding to messages with a thumbs up or a heart and the understanding that you will “talk about it properly” when you see each other in person? Why do we feel we have to give so much to our digital exchanges? I recognise, of course, that checking in with friends, sending little updates, sharing mutually interesting information (such as links to cultural essays!), and “thinking of you” moments are a kind of love language. They are part of how we maintain connection but I don’t personally believe it has to be quite as big a part as we, pushed, of course, by social media companies, have made it over the last two decades.
Without wishing to get all Boomerish on you, WE DIDN’T USE TO EVEN HAVE TEXT MESSAGING. And yet humankind still forged and sustained meaningful relationships. It can be done. And I’m actively trying to do it. Since I wrote that piece last year, I have been working on shifting my relationship maintenance strategies from the digital to the corporeal. Granted it hasn’t always gone well. A woman I was dating declined to continue seeing me (read: I got dumped) because I did not respond in a timely fashion or with the correct level of enthusiasm to her OOTD selfies. And I have had to gently loosen my grip on other relationships where it was clear the face-to-face hangouts I craved were not going to materialise.
I’m not yet lonely. I mean, I am, because we all are in 2025, but I do not believe that I’m lonely because of my reduced texting. If anything, in my case, I think the texting directly contributes to the loneliness. I don’t want to catch up on WhatsApp, I want to share actual physical space with you. And no amount of texting can fulfill that need. So, yes, more on digital downsizing, and how TF we stay friends if I won’t text you, next week. But for now I just wanted you to know that I am single handedly closing the texting gap. You’re welcome.
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This is a section from a piece my friend Rachel Thompson wrote for The Guardian to promote her new book The Love Fix (out tomorrow!). I agree with this wholeheartedly, although I am aware that it can be a difficult truth to hold onto when you’re in the throes of yet another disappointment. And yes, as a non-monog person, I too suffer grevious disappointment from time to time, the stakes are not so low as to eradicate all fucks from my emotional arsenal. I actually read a beautiful piece a few years ago that I cannot for the life of me locate now (if you recognise what I’m talking about, let me know!) in which the writer described the way dating had given her tiny glimpses into other kinds of lives, and the little things she’d taken away from each one—a recipe, a great life hack, a recommendation for a bar in a foreign city that she’ll one day use if she ever goes there. It’s something I really relate to. I count the little snippets of discovery, delight, even epiphany that I have kept from dates, from casual flings, from situationships, from love affairs, over the years, and incorporated into my life, and it really is a treasure trove if you choose to view it that way.
I was interested to see that IKEA is planning to expand their pre-owned service, particularly because, as the chief exec of Ingka, which operates IKEA stores, Jesper Brodin said himself, it’s not actually making any real profit. This is a really good example, I think, of a company embracing the ways people actually engage with their products. IKEA knows there is a huge second-hand furniture market, and they know that we know that the planet does not need another fucking Billy bookcase (even if they do only cost £35), so why not hop on the bandwagon and make your customers feel seen.
The FT kind of framed this as a sustainability story but I don’t really think it is. I mean, sure, second-hand furniture, and the boom in second-hand shopping more generally, is linked to growing awareness about the environmental cost of manufacturing as well as the damage caused by chucking stuff away, but, I think, as Brodin said, it’s more about there being “a market and a movement in society,” adding, “if we would stay outside we couldn’t take part in it.”
I probably wouldn’t go as far as to call it greenwashing, because they have been transparent about the fact that it’s not yet profitable for them and they are not for a minute pretending their primary business is not sell new furniture, but it’s undeniably a good move for the brand.
Historically, IKEA has a decent record on sustainability (I mean, the most sustainable thing to do would be to stop manufacturing furniture altogether but I concede that’s an unlikely scenario) but what I think they have a really good record on is paying attention to their customers in a way that actually manages to feel genuine, curious, even playful. I remember talking to the team in the early 2010s about IKEA Hackers, a then-blog where people showcased the mad things they’d done with their IKEA furniture (and some of them were certifiably bonkers) and they were so into it.
They did briefly consider suing Jules Yap, the owner of the site, in 2013, but thought better of it after… wait for it… listening to her counterargument and the views of their customers.
I first wrote about IKEA hacking around 2012 but I ran an absolute ton of stories about upcycling and “doing it on the cheap” (because guess what, people have actually always shopped second-hand and needed sustainable DIY tips and hacks) and any time IKEA was featured, the company’s response was always super enthusiastic. Indeed, in 2019, Sweden hosted the IKEA HACKED exhibition, exploring the phenomenon, in which they invited designers and artists to use their furniture to create something new. That same year they launched the Live Lagom community which is basically a Facebook group for Ikea hackers (although IKEA does also offer some hacks and suggestions of its own).
Despite myself, I find I have something of a soft spot for IKEA. At the very least I find them an interesting company and though my homes and interiors journalism days are long behind me, I do always prick my ears up when I hear about some new initiative. I also unashamedly loved this 2020 ad campaign, thought it was brilliant. (Me? Loving an advert?)
