I keep getting your texts, but listen: you have no idea how busy I am online. There are so many podcasts to catch up on. New memes and TikToks every day. My hands are pretty full, ok? You understand.
Shit. I just saw your Instagram story. Looks like I gotta finally respond to your texts. Might as well, it has been a few months.
I tried to undo the view cuz it’s easier overall, but Instagram gives you away on the story view – thanks, Zuck! I considered blocking but that just makes everything weird. Maybe if I throw my phone in the ocean, I won’t have to respond to your texts? Ah, but then I’d lose those daily McDonald’s app deals. Wow, this social pressure is overwhelming.
I had been meaning to text you back, my dude, but social media has just been so nourishing lately. Why do my friends bother me IRL? It’s like they want my continued meaningful companionship or some shit. Lame! I’m busy, ok?
it actually might be easier if I just finally text you back. Address the awkwardness head-on. One word responses, that’s all you get.
Aaand, fucking great. Just as I text back, your over-eager ass responds and now I got these consecutive haptic ‘dings’ on my phone as you flood our chat. Don’t you know this is bad for my anxiety? These attempts at emotional bonding and connection are eating into my Snapchat time, my dude.
OK, I responded to your joke with a Shaq gif. I reacted to the link you shared with an upside-down smiley face. Also I gave a non-committal answer (“would love to!”) as to when we can hang next. Boom, I’m done here.
Ugh, you’re calling me now? When did you become a “phone call” person? I’ll ignore it and instead fire up Instagram. Looks like you shared a funny meme, I’ll just give it a Like and—fuck! Ah, fuck, well.. Fine, I’ll answer your call, but only for thirty seconds, I’m too busy generating my own AI porn. This is the future, my dude. The world needs to see my “Monica Belluci as an old sea captain but hot” artwork. Leave me alone with your sad human friendship!