The Psychology Of Cell Phones

This cell phone thing has got us all a little crazy. Everyone’s owns one, we all think we need one, and no one can seem to do a thing without it. I even saw a beagle at the dog park peeing while texting the other day. When another dog got curious and came closer to sniff, the beagle aimed his stream at him and pushed him back from the phone screen.

At first I was all like, Why does my twelve year old need a phone? (Telling me that all the other toddlers got theirs in pre-K was not a persuasive argument ) I mean, when I was a kid and I walked or rode my bike uphill in five feet of snow, I would run into the occasional pervert who’d be spanking himself in his Mustang while stopping to ask me for directions, but I would just walk or pedal away.

I didn’t feel the need to call my Mommy and tell her what just happened for the third time that week – not only was it such an old routine that it was boring, but we’re talking about MY mother here. Queen and creator of the Unnecessary Twenty Questions Game. She wouldn’t ask me where I was so she could come get me in case this guy followed me and tried to rape me. She wouldn’t ask for a description of the car or if I got the license plate and tell me to come straight home so we could call the police. She wouldn’t even ask if I was ok. Instead I’d have to answer: How much of his, ya know, that…the…uh, thing…down there did you see? Was it big? Was it pink? How did that make you feel? and finally, with the same accusation with which she asked the first four questions: Why did he stop to ask you for directions? What were you doing? Why did he think it was ok? So, for me, the invention of cell phones could wait, and the red haired afro guy in the green Miata was free to stalk me for a whole summer, because when I did tell my mother about him via my mouth, she didn’t believe me anyway.

Now that my kids are in their teens, and I’m kinda in charge of them growing up safely so they can put me in a home one day, I like them to have phones so that they can check in. So far I haven’t gotten a call about any deviants, but that’s either because it hasn’t happened or they don’t want to be hung up on while I turn on the locator app, and grab my bat so I can beat some deranged ass. I think that might embarrass them.

If that were all that phones were used for, I’d be fine. Call me old fashioned, but my ring tone is an actual ring, just like …wait for it… a phone. Texting is even ok; I can’t always juggle the groceries and several school dance dress choices (don’t even get me started – that’s another blog altogether) while balancing an elf sized phone between my shoulder and ear as I half listen because the cost of my next chiropractic session has all of my attention.

Recently, my son’s iPhone was stolen while he toiled away at his Regents exam, and suddenly I want to go back and get my doctorate in Psychology, because the codependence I have witnessed has got the entrepreneur in me all hot and bothered.

I went down to the school and asked Security if they had a camera stationed at the scene of the crime. They do, but we were told it would take a few days till they could watch the footage. And so we wait.

Within hours, my son was sweaty and shaking. I asked if he was ok, and he said, “I have no phone.” Later the same day, I fell and yelled, “Ooh!” as I went down. My son came running, the color returning to his face a bit as he stared at my bleeding leg and asked, “Did you find my phone?” Eventually though, something even weirder happened; he started having conversations with me. And even made eye contact.

I had to stop myself from asking him what was different. He hadn’t shaved, gotten a haircut, or suddenly developed the need for glasses – his face looked so strange because there was no phone glued to it. I could tell that his eyes were brown and didn’t change each day like his sister’s did, because ….he looked directly at me. There were no more long awkward pauses between questions because I would have to wait for him to finish typing a text or to look up the answer on Google. The only games we were playing were things like Boggle – with pen and paper.

Do I worry about him when he’s out longboarding and wish that I could call or text to check up on him? Yeah, I do. I really hope that we find the kid that took his phone. I need to give him or her a big hug and then go home and suck up my fears…if someone approaches him on the street, all I can say is, “Sorry perv. Although my pain was usually unintentional and involved tripping or stubbing my toe in the dark, I too know the multiple ways that the longboard can inflict damage on parts of the human body – in your case, ones that probably belong safely in your pants.”