sex and the city, miranda, mobile phone, mobile, addicted

I’m more addicted to my phone than you

Me: Sorry… just got to send this text…

You: (texting)…

Me: (texting)…

You: (texting)…

Me: (scrolling) What the hell…?

You: (looks up briefly)…

Me: Did you see this on Instagram?

You: Course. I’m never not on Instagram.

Me: I have to repost.

You: I already reposted.

Me: (phone beeps) Wait, did you just text me?

You: I thought it would be easier.

Me: ‘Do you want a drink?’

You: Tell me what you feel like and I’ll Deliveroo?

Me: Rather than go to your kitchen?

You: I Deliveroo everything.

Me: Even, like, water?

You: I don’t have time to get my own water.

You: Siri, what are the best Deliveroo drinks in my area?

Me: (filming)

You: Are you filming me?

Me: Insta-story.

You: Imagine, like, losing your phone.

Me: Sorry… just texting…

You: I wouldn’t be able to do anything… Ever again.

Me: I don’t have a brain anymore. My phone is my brain.

You: This device houses my soul.

Me: If you cut this phone, it would cry in my voice and then bleed actual blood.

You: This phone knows me better than I know myself.

Me: Don’t get me wrong, I hate the damn thing.

You: OMG, I am a slave to this bastard.

Me: I don’t *want* it by my bed at night.

You: But what if there’s an emergency?

Me: There could certainly be an emergency!

You: And checking emails at midnight means I have no surprises in the morning.

Me: (phone rings) Look, I don’t want to take this call, but I have to. (takes call) Hi! Hi!

You: It’s fine, I have 2398567399 un-listened-to voicemails to check.

Me: (on call) Sorry, call waiting. Call you back?

You:  Just checking my emails…

Me: (on call) Just message me. Or DM me. Or email me. Or WhatsApp me. Or comment on my last post.

You: (taps fingers)… Better check my emails again. In case anything has just landed, y’know?

Me: OMG, my battery is about to –

You: F*****ck, me too, less than one perce-

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