Call Me Sometime. No, Really.

I finally caved to the pressure to buy a cell phone in 2003. When it got to the point where I was calling friends before I left my house for an evening out and giving them other friend’s cell phone numbers to reach me, I knew the time had come. What a necessary evil.

For the past three years I’ve carried my pink RAZR phone around with a bit of sarcastic pride. “It’s vintage!” I exclaim when friends tease me about my antiquated phone. If they also sent text messages teasing me about my phone, I’d have plenty of saucy replies…except for the fact that it takes an hour to type out a text message on the ol’ phone. As you might have guessed I’m not the most tech-loving girl. I’ve avoided the Kindles and Nooks, the Itouch, the Ipad. For quite some time I have avoided smart phones on principle. I’m slightly uncomfortable with the idea of always being connected or reachable through the interwebs. Truthfully, I know I don’t need all those bells and whistles and apps and the like. In fact, for the past six months or so, I likened keeping my RAZR to the notion of saving myself, from myself.

However. When the rumors that Verizon would finally get the Iphone in January began, I decided I’d hold out for just a few more months before jumping on the smart phone bandwagon. I had an old work discount with Verizon that I didn’t want to lose so made a promise to myself that as soon as I could get the phone at a discount I’d dive head first into the Steve Jobs Kool-Aid. I started paying a little more attention when friends used their phones, I asked more questions, I did my best to learn how to turn the thing on. And then something happened. I was hooked. I wanted that Iphone. Could January just hurry up and get here already? Then I started hearing rumors that Verizon had moved the Iphone out until March. March? I worried. 6 more months with this RAZR? Oh dear.

Thus began my investigation into the world of AT&T, wherein I quickly learned: Dude. Iphones are expensive! I have always had an individual phone plan, but my family is all partnered up and cozy with an AT&T family plan. So naturally, I started investigating what the cost would be if we added another line. This time I learned: Dude. Family plans are a way better bargain.

So. After some discussion with my Mom, I was all ready to sign up as an AT&T customer on our family plan. Signed, sealed, delivered. Until I learned I would have to give up my phone number and switch over to a number in the Atlanta metro region. I would have to drop my Boston phone number. I mean no offense to Atlanta, but realizing this may or may not have caused me to have a mild stress attack. Oh yes, I realize I’m being ridiculous and melodramatic; it’s a first-world problem. It’s just 3 little numbers that make up a silly little area code. And yet that area code represents a city I’ve lived in for 11 years. I can’t help but feel a little attached.

Yes, it’s just a phone number. But it’s MY phone number. In seven years, it's kind-of, sort-of become part of my existence. Call me sentimental, but I just don’t want to lose her.

Think about it. What if Jenny had changed her number from 867-5309?