I’m the one who doesn’t call. I’ve spent years hearing complaints about myself in the third person, and so I thought I might take a moment to try to defend myself. Maybe the other people who don’t call have some of the same excuses, or other perfectly reasonable ones.
First off, it’s not about you. This applies to a lot of situations, not just about why someone will or will not call. I’ve heard cogent arguments from teachers that something as personal-seeming as an oral exam has more to do with the examining committee than about you, who studied hard for this thing. So it surprises me, the extent to which people consent to wasting mental and emotional energy taking a lack of action personally.
Here’s what it is about: me. I hate the telephone. Since we’ve gotten away from landlines, the reception has gotten poorer--I find myself missing even more non-verbal cues than on email. Plus, the socially acceptable spaces for making phone calls have largely disappeared, leaving us to call while we’re walking around and distracted. Not to mention, I just happen to be a visual/kinesthetic learner rather than auditory, so talking on the phone doesn’t even impart that much information to me.
More importantly, I’m busy. I’ve got a job I value; a suite of lovers who, low-maintenance as they all are, seem to benefit from being included in my life; and some priorities of my own. Adding someone new to the list of people who get real-time communication might turn into an obligation rather than a treat. I don’t call you because I assume you’re busy living your own life. I sure am! Who has half an hour of unscheduled time in which they’re not already invested in their own activities and happen to be alone (my most important rule of poly: focus on the person/people in front of you. That applies to friendships, too)? I might schedule a phone call if I want to connect with you. Or write you an email. Or--if if I don’t want to hear about your life, too--suggest you follow me on some social medium or other. But I won’t call just because we met and I might want to hang out; there’s an opportunity cost of great things that are already happening in my life.
I’m thinking of this now because I’m specifically choosing not to call someone with whom I had a great first date. OK, it was great for me; it may not have been for him. But the truth is, I know people are on their best behavior on dates, and just as I don’t usually discount a mediocre first date, a great one isn’t sufficient information to predict a great relationship. I might be willing to let this one go. I’d also be willing to go on a second date if he found me (it sometimes only takes one to negotiate a tango), but scheduling the first one was hard enough, and I don’t see what awesome people or activities I’m willing to give up in order to get more information on this guy. New acquaintances just don’t pop up into my head that frequently. There’s certainly no ill will; I rather like this particular guy. Even for the ones I don’t particularly like, I’m certainly not ignoring them on purpose out of spite.
I suppose I could call him now, since I’m thinking of it.
But I’d just rather write my blog.
First off, it’s not about you. This applies to a lot of situations, not just about why someone will or will not call. I’ve heard cogent arguments from teachers that something as personal-seeming as an oral exam has more to do with the examining committee than about you, who studied hard for this thing. So it surprises me, the extent to which people consent to wasting mental and emotional energy taking a lack of action personally.
Here’s what it is about: me. I hate the telephone. Since we’ve gotten away from landlines, the reception has gotten poorer--I find myself missing even more non-verbal cues than on email. Plus, the socially acceptable spaces for making phone calls have largely disappeared, leaving us to call while we’re walking around and distracted. Not to mention, I just happen to be a visual/kinesthetic learner rather than auditory, so talking on the phone doesn’t even impart that much information to me.
More importantly, I’m busy. I’ve got a job I value; a suite of lovers who, low-maintenance as they all are, seem to benefit from being included in my life; and some priorities of my own. Adding someone new to the list of people who get real-time communication might turn into an obligation rather than a treat. I don’t call you because I assume you’re busy living your own life. I sure am! Who has half an hour of unscheduled time in which they’re not already invested in their own activities and happen to be alone (my most important rule of poly: focus on the person/people in front of you. That applies to friendships, too)? I might schedule a phone call if I want to connect with you. Or write you an email. Or--if if I don’t want to hear about your life, too--suggest you follow me on some social medium or other. But I won’t call just because we met and I might want to hang out; there’s an opportunity cost of great things that are already happening in my life.
I’m thinking of this now because I’m specifically choosing not to call someone with whom I had a great first date. OK, it was great for me; it may not have been for him. But the truth is, I know people are on their best behavior on dates, and just as I don’t usually discount a mediocre first date, a great one isn’t sufficient information to predict a great relationship. I might be willing to let this one go. I’d also be willing to go on a second date if he found me (it sometimes only takes one to negotiate a tango), but scheduling the first one was hard enough, and I don’t see what awesome people or activities I’m willing to give up in order to get more information on this guy. New acquaintances just don’t pop up into my head that frequently. There’s certainly no ill will; I rather like this particular guy. Even for the ones I don’t particularly like, I’m certainly not ignoring them on purpose out of spite.
I suppose I could call him now, since I’m thinking of it.
But I’d just rather write my blog.
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