how to liberate yourself from your phone

as painful as it is rewarding

Not long ago, my phone slid in between a couch and a wall, and I was told by the bartender that there was no getting it back.

The Saturday night that followed was, to my surprise, very silly and carefree. The bartender lowered a fishing line into the crevice with his six-foot fishing pole (unsuccessfully). We were given free drinks. We laughed a lot. And most fun of all, I wasn’t worried about missing a text message (I had the perfect excuse!). 

I got my phone back a few days later, but the experience left a lasting impression. It turns out, it’s kind of fun to be out with your friends without the anxieties associated with checking your phone. Now, I’ve even begun to leave it at home on purpose. Each time I depart on my own, I’m rewarded with a rare form of “who cares?” bliss – which never fails to surprise me. 

Admittedly, if you’re under 35, it takes a degree of coordination and willpower. You’re forced to embrace inefficiency and accept not knowing when the bus is coming or when a restaurant closes. Phantom inclinations also persist. You might be in line at a coffee shop with a nearly uncontrollable urge to refresh Twitter, the slot machine of frustration. But this urge often lends itself to a pleasant feeling when you neglect it, and you instead think about the smell of the coffee, the woman in front of you, Rilke’s poetry, how nice last summer was, how easy it was to convince that Silicon Valley Bank guy to hand you the keys to his boat, etc., etc.

I am particular grateful for these moments. And I hope that, if you’re as hopelessly online as I am, you get to experience them too.

Step one

Leave your phone behind on a small errand. Even if it’s just stepping outside and staring at the sun, that too can work.

Step two

You need to reject the false notion of hyper-productivity. You are not going to use your phone at a coffee shop to send a really interesting work email or review German verbs. You’re going to watch Instagram stories of what your high school acquaintances are having for lunch. And you’ll be ambivalent about it, at best.

Step three

Become a little bored. Sitting on the train and waiting in line at the grocery store might will be more boring. But, as much as I too like suppressing any organic thought, it’s not a bad idea in the long term to compel yourself to think of something entertaining. Thinking in particular about edgy, post-left content creators here.

Step four

Welcome minor defeats.

The world can be a bit hostile to those without internet access. It’s something you don’t really think about until you have to confront it head-on. You’re unable to view QR code menus (seriously, who likes those?) and it’s sometimes weird to ask a question in person which could have been an email. However, maybe this is, as they say, an experience you grow from. 

Step five

Have a little fun with it. Cultivate a crush at the farmer’s market. Ask your friend what time it is and observe the look on their face. Talk to a stranger who looks cool, compliment their shoes. 

Step six

Just kind of chill out, maybe?

Step seven

With any luck, maybe one day you’ll be able to compose your thoughts in a manner that isn’t tweet-adjacent and escape the sort of bullet-point literature that pops up in bad autofiction and Substack posts.

Step 8

Clearly that day is not today. Better head to a bar and ask my friend if I can tweet from his phone.

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Pardon last week’s interruption – I’ve been fighting a cold and I’m trying to move to San Francisco at the end of the month (to get more annoying).