The Phantom Ring

Back in October I made the mistake of reading an article that described excessive cell phone users feeling “phantom vibrations” from the place on their belt, pocket or, in females and only 2% of males, pocketbook. I thought nothing of it at the time when, frankly, I hardly spoke for more than five minutes a day. But now that I manage a healthy workload through cell phone use and have certainly taken a boost in my social life (over 2 friends) the phone tends to ring regularly.

With that said, either I’m losing my mind, or I swear my phone is ringing.

Amazingly, in some of these instances I don’t even have my phone on me.

Take for example my venture to the gym earlier this week. Unlike most people at the gym, I refuse to talk on a bluetooth (or even own one for that matter). I’m at the gym for an hour and in the span of that hour I want to detach myself from everything outside those doors. For lack of better understanding, it’s an escape.

But the phantom phone is still with me. Stomach crunches – phone rings. Biking – the phone rings. Benching – the phone rings. I think you get the picture by now.

This is both aggravating and nerve racking at the same time. Am I losing my mind? Am I having a stroke?

It’s not just in the absence of my phone either. I’m not one for belt clips, bluetooths (aforementioned) or any style of ‘wearing’ a phone. I literally put it in my pocket and head out the door.

For a guy, carrying the phone in your pocket puts it uncomfortably close to the ‘franks n beans.’ This isn’t planned, nor is it the reason why I detest belt clips (lie), but the sheer modeling flaw in pants; or at least pants for guys over six-feet tall, is that the pockets are awkwardly deep. Now when I have my phone actually on me, I get even more concerned when I feel it ringing its phantom ring. Is something wrong with my junk? Do I have a kickball-sized tumor on my sac?

I suppose the logical solution to delay my eminent journey into the world of utter insanity would be to simply turn the ringer on. But that only works in theory; I never hear my phone ring. So perhaps keeping this stellar piece of technology resting on my change purse, pulsating and vibrating only when someone wants my attention is the only logical solution.

If only women would do the same in crowded bars.

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