Reading between the characters

That I would ever read that much into two sentences outside of one of my literature classes is ridiculous. The theory behind texting, I think, is that it is the technological equivalent of a Post-It note. It is for short, to-the-point messages about mundane things, with total disregard for the niceties. “If you have the time, would you mind maybe buying me soap at the drug store? Thanks so much, I really appreciate it” won’t fit so well on a Post-It note; “Buy me soap at the drugstore?” does.

Yet that’s not how it’s used. Over the course of the day, I conduct full-fledged conversations via text, which is probably not so healthy for my social life. It’s not great for my dignity either, like on those occasions when I’m so intent on texting while walking that I’ve failed to swerve in time to avoid a tree or a pole.And communication by text message gives close reading a new name: how someone responds, what they say, how many words they say it in, how long it takes them to get back to you have come to replace the verbal and visual cues that we’d get in spoken language. It’s as if we’ve created an entirely new language.

It’s something we put way too much stock in. For instance, my dad, crotchety as he is, has embraced text messaging in spite of his firmly held conviction that technology like this actually makes things take more time rather than making our lives easier.

His theory is that, in fact, you need very few letters for people to understand what you’re saying. So he sends me texts like, “whru?,” which means, “Where are you?”

Obviously.

God help the person who reads too deeply into my father’s text messages. Not only does the man not respond for hours, if ever, but he doesn’t even bother to type out full words. In some ways it’s a nod to your intelligence that he assumes you can decipher his code. But interpreted in the traditional way, you would assume that he’s pissed off at you for bothering him at a time when he is very busy, and that he can’t even be bothered to take the type out full words. Of course, that’s assuming you have any idea what he’s saying.

But this is my dad’s style of texting. If he were to all of a sudden send long messages, I’d be concerned.

Me, on the other hand — I’m talkative, whether in person or via text. My iPhone gives me virtually unlimited characters and only makes me type half a word before it finishes it off for me, and as a result, my texts can be verbose, to say the least. So when I respond in few words, like “yep” or “gym,” you would logically assume that I was upset. And you’d probably be right.

It’s a sticking point. I get annoyed, more so than I already am, and accuse people of being ridiculous and reading too much into my text messages. “I’m fine I’m just busy,” I say, or “I’m fine. Sorry it’s hard to text while on the elliptical.” Why I feel the need to answer texts while on the elliptical is, of course, another story. But the fact remains, I wish people would stop taking everything I text so seriously.

Of course, they’re right to do so: The way I text does indicate something about my mood, often just as loudly as my tone of voice would. And yet it drives me crazy that people read so much into it. I cling to that inherent ambiguity in texts with a person you don’t know well. It’s that ambiguity, that sense of anonymity that gives you the confidence to say whatever you want, to flirt unabashedly, without feeling like it can really be linked back to you. It’s as if texting gives you an alterego.

But when the flirting is over, when you really know someone, what they text, how many words they say it in and when they send it means everything. Ironically, this new language of texting has very little to do with the text itself.

Maybe my dad has a point. You need very few letters to get a point across.