We need to text... I mean talk

This weekend I waited and waited for a reply to a text that I eventually regretted sending.

There should have been a voice connected to the conversation. It should have been face-to-face, a Skype session or at the very least, a regular phone call.

Everyone knows that those “we need to talk” messages with the occasional series of dot-dot-dots at the end are never taken lightly when they appear on a phone screen.

Despite the convenience of holding a conversation in this manner, it’s disheartening to realize that we’ve become used to denying the comfort and intimacy of someone’s voice.

The intent you can hear spill from someone’s lips can’t be found so easily when the words are read in a shorthand message.

For the sake of argument, let’s say that texting “meet me 4 dinner?” and “can I borrow your psych notes?” is perfectly understandable. Let’s assume that these situations are what SMS messages were intended for — a quick and brief message.

However, when we leave the realm of simple conversation, text messaging shouldn’t be considered.

My primary example? “We need to talk ...”

Okay, the ellipses might be a little exaggerated, but are you trying to give someone a heart attack?

“We need to talk” is so blunt that every time I see it, I feel like I am a child being scolded. My mind races and immediately assumes the worst.

And being the hypocrite that I am, I sent that exact message this weekend.

In the midst of feeling both anxious and relieved, I decided that a 15-character message was an appropriate way to get my point across before I lost my nerve. I just want to talk.

As soon as that “Message Sent” envelope flew away into the electronic abyss of AT&T’s server, I let out my notorious choice expletive, realizing that it was probably not the smartest thing I could have done.

I’ve had plenty of experience being on the receiving end of the “We need to talk”/ “[insert long emotional outburst that should have been a phone call]” messages, and I always found myself feeling ridiculous and afraid to even reply.

The convenience of a text message should never be taken advantage of when it comes to serious conversation. There is too much room for error and miscommunication of intent.

“We need to talk” can turn into “We need to talk, and it’s going to be bad” from the moment it sends from your fingertips to the point that it is opened on the other end.

While it might be a faux pas to quote a musician, Jason Mraz, in all of his infinite wisdom, couldn’t have said it any better: “Do you ever wonder what happens to the words that we send?/ Do they bend, do they break from the flight that they take/ And come back together again with a whole new meaning/ In a brand new sense, completely unrelated to the one I sent?”

There will always be moments where we get anxious to spill our guts to someone and the words “Create Message” are dying to be selected in our phone menus.

However, we mistreat conversations that were meant to be delicate by breaking them down to nothing with the blunt end of bold words on an LCD screen.

We do ourselves an injustice to the beauty of communication when we allow a text message to take hold of our words and misrepresent them.

How often have you read a message and thought it was spiteful when it was merely sarcasm? How many times have you gotten a “We gotta talk” message and worried yourself into an anxiety attack only to find out that it was something menial?

A voice can bring an assurance that mere words can’t, whether it is from your significant other or your best friend.

So, in the future, I’m going to take a stand against ever sending or reciprocating a message that was meant to have a voice attached.

The first admittance of love. An outburst of anger. A secret to be told in confidence. Any message that begins with “We need to talk.”

Because there is no telling how that message is interpreted at the other end.

Take advantage of the power your voice can have on someone, and next time you have something to say, say it. Don’t text it.

Otherwise, you could be saying something that you had no intention of saying.


E-mail: aysymatz@indiana.edu