Married to his iPhone: ‘We just made love, he’s texting again’

Friday night eight o’clock. Joost and I plop down on the couch with sushi and white wine. Cooked from a busy week, ready for an evening together. After two bites and three sips I hear a beep – in duplicate. Hey, the group of friends is awake and starting an app bombing about a party next week.

Before I know it, we’re both frantically texting along. 64 posts later I’m tired of it. We have all been off topic for a long time and although it is very cozy and funny, this was just not my idea of ​​an evening with just the two of us. I put my iPhone on silent and flick it into a corner. And expect Joost to do the same.

Inseparable

It gradually feels as if there are no more four of us at home, but that two full-fledged family members have crept in at an unguarded moment. They just haven’t eaten yet. Because the only telephone rule we have so far is that our iPhones are not used by anyone – including our daughters Mara (5) and Hanna (3) – when we are sitting at the table. A rule that we ourselves regularly exceed, if only to Skype with one of the grandmothers during dinner or to make a funny film of Hanna who makes a yogurt hair mask herself. And oh well, then we’ll throw that directly in the app group of the family.

Still, that thing bothers me. Joost and his iPhone are inseparable. In fact, his phone is his life. If an appointment is not noted in his digital agenda, then it does not exist, according to him. The other day he looked at me wide-eyed when I casually reported during the morning rush hour that I was so excited about tonight.
“Why tonight, what are you going to do?”
“Well, I’ll be gone at six o’clock. Dinner with Joan, Maud and Lotte. Then we’ll probably go to the pub. I’ve said that three times already.”

Not texted or emailed

As my irritation grows, Joost picks up his phone. “I don’t know anything. It’s not on my calendar. You certainly didn’t text or email it.” I explode. Do I really have to text or email every appointment of anyone in this family? Shaking my head, I walk to the kitchen. Where did it go wrong here? And how can we turn the tide? Because this happens to me more often than I would like.

In the evening I express my displeasure with my friends. We sigh, groan and groan and then laugh out loud at each other. Without even realizing it, we look at our phones grumbling to see if any messages have come in. Collectively they disappear from the table.

My biggest irritation is also my biggest pitfall. I myself check my mail, Facebook, Instagram, the news and Buienradar far too often at home. I’m just as fond of my iPhone as Joost, but determined to change that. That’s why it’s more often in the closet, instead of on the couch next to me. And if I can’t resist the temptation to jump up at every beep, then shut up. I am kicking this irritating addiction cold turkey.

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Phone on his bedside table

Joost sees it completely differently. He isn’t addicted. He finds himself. In addition, given his managerial position in a company that is open from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m., he must always be available. At night, his phone is on his bedside table, in case there is a break-in and security calls. Unfortunately, this also happens with some regularity.

By the way, before that phone ends up on the bedside table, he faithfully makes his online round. Just checking the mail, YouTube, dot-and-ellen, Facebook and of course send apps to thirty groups in which he is part. I do my best to ignore all the squeaking next to me, but in the meantime I find it bloody irritating. I don’t want to be disturbed when I’m sleeping or eating something else – yet my phone goes to bed with me because it doubles as an alarm clock. So yes, if Joost is still swiping, I might as well join in. So I am again.

Regularly (read: every night) we lie in bed next to each other surfing the internet. Faces blue with light, fingers cold with swiping. One evening I look at Joost. He’s on his stomach, phone on his pillow, watching the world’s top ten The Voice auditions (don’t ask me why). I suddenly remember the conversation we had recently had. About our sex life, which has kind of slackened since the girls got here. Because tired, not in the mood, too late, and so on. I think those girls are a lame excuse. By the time we’ve swiped out, my eyes close and all I want to do is sleep. Not the girls, but those phones affect our lives between the sheets.

‘You can not be serious’

I aim mine at my bedside table, take it from him and tempt Joost into a nice chat. While we are having a good time together (we really should do this more often!), I hear another app coming in next to me. I ignore the sound and focus on the hot man lying on top of me. Afterwards I walk from the bathroom back to bed. Just when I want to say how much I liked it, I see how Joost quickly sends an app. “You can not be serious!” I crawl next to him and angrily turn my back on him. Lights out and sleep.

The next day, Joost admits it wasn’t a smart move on his part. We stand in the bathroom brushing our teeth, look at each other and both laugh. We’re going to improve our lives. The telephones are often put aside in Huize Pelders. At breakfast Joost asks about my schedule for the coming weeks. Appointments, obligations, what’s on the agenda? “Caro, put it on the app please. Then I immediately synchronize that with my calendar. Otherwise I really can’t remember.” I give him a wink and promise. I think we still have a long way to go.

This article was previously published in Kek Mama.

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