My husband is jealous of my relationship with my phone

 

 

 My husband is jealous of my relationship with my phone
13 March 2014

Urgh!  Husbands!  What are they like.  So needy.  So demanding. 

Mine is quite often terribly miffed with my phone.  But I think I’ve finally figured it out – he’s just plain jealous.

Jealous of the time I spend fondling my phone, staring at it lovingly.  Touching it all over.

And to be fair – he’s right.  I do.

My phone is my portal to the world.  My connection with many people.  Via numerous different channels.  There’s emails, and Whatsapps, Instagram and Facebook, Twitter and sms’, and my beloved friend Google.  Quite literally the world at my fingertips.  Not to even mention the fact that it has become my camera.  The place I record my memories and every notable occasion in my life and in the lives of my children and those I love.  I take it with me on walks up the mountain.  Walks along the beach.  Drives in the car.  Nestled in my pocket.  It’s my mp3 player, with all of my favourite songs.  To be fair – it’s my technological heaven.

It beeps constantly, and I find it terribly hard to ignore.  And thus, during family time, I try and simply put it on mute.  Face down.  So the often lit up screen doesn’t divert my focus from the real people in my life.  The ones I care about the most.  The ones that actually need my attention.  And deserve it too. 

My best, is the way it allays boredom on car journeys.  Even short little ones, when I’m in the passenger seat.  Especially when Grant’s the driver, and he’s on a business call, or lost in his own thoughts.  Though I am perfectly capable of holding a verbal conversation, whilst busy on my phone.  My multi-tasking abilities are finely honed.

It’s so delightfully distracting.  And what happens is that with one simple glance, I get transported.  My fingers flying over the screen.  Taking in all that is on offer. 

The side tracking possibilities are endless.  And they do just that.

And yes, I am often pre-occupied with it.  Busy, you see.  But there’s just so much out there.  And it’s forever pinging.  Demanding my attention.  Needing my touch.

And so for my husband, perhaps his feelings of discontent are justified.  Warranted even.  But here’s the thing…

Do I whinge about the time he spends fondling the TV remote?  Staring at it lovingly.  Touching it all over.

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