Is There a Cure for Textaholics?

By Rev. James L. Snyder

Recently, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly upgraded our lives with cell phones. Up until this time, I just assumed a cell phone was what a prisoner used.

My wife and I dragged our feet for a long time until we finally took the plunge. Both of us finally went to the cell phone store and signed up for cell phone service. She picked out a phone for herself and then picked up another phone. She turned to me and said, "I think this will suit you."

I must say she did not hog the whole experience of purchasing cell phones. She rather graciously allowed me to pull out my checkbook and write a check for our cell phone service. I wrote that check and signed it with a smile, not knowing what I was really doing.

Now that we have upgraded our lifestyle, life has become rather easy for us. I really did not know how the simple act of signing up for cell phone service would so drastically change our life. You see, there is something that came with our service called texting. I have heard of this, of course, but I had no idea what it was. However, I was shortly to discover the bliss of the world of texting.

Not long after we purchased our cell phone service, we were at a restaurant celebrating our wedding anniversary. Yes, sir, 40 years ago we tied the knot, and we have had a wonderful time together. Oh sure, there have been those "knotty" situations, but overall everything has held together. That sure was a tight knot we tied back in the day.

We were celebrating at a restaurant and my wife needed to go to the ladies’ room. While she was gone, the waitress came to take our drink order. Even though I have been blissfully married for 40 years, I never make decisions for my better half. So, when the waitress asked for my wife’s drink order, I did not quite know what to say.

Then it dawned on me. I will text her. After all, isn't that why we got this cell phone service in the first place? So I texted her and asked her what she wanted to drink.

Within a very short time, my cell phone buzzed, and I looked at her text. "Coffee."

I looked at the waitress, who was looking rather strangely at me, and said to her, "My wife will have coffee."

This was just the beginning of the textualization of our relationship. We really do not have to talk to each other anymore; we can just text, which cuts down on the shouting.

Just the other night, I was sitting in my easy chair reading a book, and a text message appeared on my cell phone. I picked it up and looked at the text message. It said, "Can you come to the bedroom immediately?" Not knowing what opportunities awaited, I rushed into the bedroom.

There was my wife, on the far side of the bed. She said to me, "Help me turn this mattress over."

Another time, we were at the mall together. At the mall, we usually go to different stores. My cell phone rang and a text message came. "Where are you?"

I immediately texted back, "Right behind you."

A text message returned quickly, saying, "Oh, I thought you were lost."

"No," I quickly texted back, "but that can be arranged."

I am neither a psychiatrist nor a psychologist, but I think my wife has become intexticated by this new technology.

Trying to get her attention, I said to her once, "Lay down the cell phone, and nobody will get hurt."

She quickly texted me and said, "Touch my cell phone and you die.”

I'm not sure if there is a rehab center for textaholics yet, but I know someone who should go there. Wait a minute… I have a text coming in.

"What do you want for supper? Meatloaf or fried chicken?"

"Fried chicken is fine with me," I reply.

Now, where was I? Ah yes, a rehab center for textaholics. Wait a minute… I have another text coming in.

"Can you pick up a quart of milk at the store?"

"Okay."

Yes, a rehab center for textaholics. If anybody knows of one, please text me the information.

About the Author

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship in Ocala, Florida.