|My face when I need a hug|
So, I'm sitting in Starbucks writing on my MacBook, looking down at my iPhone and wearing an Apple Watch. I'm connected. Too connected.
A table over from me are two people who obviously know each other and they are both on their phones. Sharing pictures from whatever app they're viewing. But no words are being exchanged.
Is this the new normal? Are we so addicted to our electronic devices that we don't talk anymore? I'm not one to judge because I just laid out the fact that I'm just as addicted. Do I need an Apple Watch? If I'm honest, no. But has it changed my life? Yes. It alerts me to every damned thing. Even when I don't really care about it. For example, the Kenyans won the NYC Marathon again. *Kanye Shrug*
But am I happy I can live out my Inspector Gadget fantasy and talk on the phone from my wrist? Yep!
I can't remember the last time I've gone on a date —I'm on strike, but that's a story for another day—but I'd like to think that I'd put my phone away and talk to the guy sitting across the table from me.
This might be a little TMI, but when I was #TeamFitbit, I wore it during sex and I kept trying to look at my heart rate, that's probably why I haven't been on a date in a while. But I digress.
When you're out alone and you don't want to be bothered, the phone is a great way to get people to leave you the hell alone. White earbuds are the international sign of "don't talk to me." (Unless you're in the South. People in the South will try you. Yes, that's just how we're made. Smile at the wrong Southerner and you will be drawn into a two hour conversation.)
Back to the folks on the phone date, they haven't touched hands once. This just makes me sad.
Oh, well, back to my novel.