Dear Parents, You’re Texting… Not Writing A Fucking Letter

Text messages, the modern day letter. There are many benefits to texting someone instead of sending them a letter like in the “good” old days. Texting is fast, free, and easy, as it doesn’t require ink, a feather, or the pony express. You can text someone a message, pictures, videos, gifs, your flaccid penis, your flaccid penis accompanied by a message saying it “could get harder if I had a picture of you to look at” and anything else your heart desires. No one cares if you use correct spelling or grammar, and instead of sitting down for an hour to pen out some long letter updating your family and friends on what’s going on in your boring life, you can simply ignore their calls and instead shoot them a text. The conveniences of texting are endless.  

However, with all of these great modern day features text messaging has brought us, there are also some not so great ones. And perhaps the most annoying feature of text messaging I can think of, is the fact that our parents can now use it as a way to further annoy the living crap out of you. Because while most parents are kind, loving, and innocent, they’re also the furthest thing from being tech savvy. So them meaning well doesn’t change the fact that my blood boils every time I get a message from my dad reminding me of what my fucking name is, as if my memory is wiped clean every night and I wake up each morning with no prior knowledge of who I am, let alone the name my parents gave me the day I popped out of my mom’s creation cave... Now you’re probably wondering what I mean by ‘reminding me of what my name is’. Well, if your dad is anything like mine, he simply cannot send a text without first addressing you by name... 

‘

Ben, what should we make for dinner?’ 

‘Ben, did you take the garbage out?’ 

‘Ben, be sure and watch for deer when you drive home tonight because this is the time of year when they’re running around the most.’ 

‘Ben, how did the interview go?’ 

‘Ben, what’s the netflux password again?’

I could go on and on and on and on. And I know, it’s clear from these actual text messages my dad has sent me, that he loves and cares about me very much. I get that and it isn’t lost on me. I love my dad very much and appreciate everything he does for me. But Jesus Christ man. I know what my damn name is! You’re sending me a text message asking what we should make for dinner, not writing a letter to inform me of grandma’s passing. This is 2021 not 1762. So unless you used a quill and some parchment paper to write that, I don’t want to see my damn name followed by a comma anywhere in that text message. Addressing me by name makes it seem like you’re scolding me for something, not asking me what the ‘netflux’ password is for the third time this month.

And yes, this is probably a bit harsh. I really didn’t need to write a blog about how my dad addresses me by my name every time he sends a text, but it annoys the hell out of me and I can’t change that. And I know there’s no shortage when it comes to spokesmen for the dad-less justice warriors, so before you get on here and tell us all about how you tragically lost your dad to a drunk driver and the last thing you have from him is a text message telling you how much he loves you blah blah blah. If you think I give a shit you’re barking up the wrong blog. So save that crap for whatever other depressing corners of the Internet you frequent. 

If you really need to enlighten me on how lucky I am to still have a dad, I suggest you send a letter instead.