When my phone rings, it's never a pleasant experience. I'm not one of those types who looks forward to phone calls from his guy friends, or even girlfriends. Girls talk on the phone, incessantly. Guys don't. Girls talk about guys. The talk is usually centered around why so-and-so is being a dick, but on occasion, it might be about the great sex she had the night before.
Guys don't call other guys to express such things. They either keep it all inside, or shoot the shit with their buddies at the bar. Girls and guys are different. Anyway, I'm getting off topic.
Just the sound of the phone ringing raises my pulse rate, makes my heart beat faster. Maybe this is a condition that connects back to my days when I was a broke writer with not much going for him. The bill collectors would call, and I would ignore them. Or maybe it goes back even farther, to when I was kid, and the phone would ring and my mother would assume a stressed, tight-faced expression. If an argument ensued with the person on the other end of the line, my fears would be justified. Maybe the other person on the line would be a teacher at my school who was reporting about an incident I was involved in. A fight maybe. Or maybe I was failing math. Anyway, I'm suspicious of phone calls. Other than the occasional call from am agent with a deal, it's never good news.
Texts aren't much better.
Not that I don't get pleasant texts from friends, but kids nowadays rarely call. They text. And usually the text revolves around something they need, be it transportation, money, food, whatever. Hey, if I were a millennial, I would no doubt do the same thing. The tree doesn't stand far from the apple.
I could go into emails as well, but emails come with warnings in the form of subject headings. They can be easily deleted.
So try not to call me. Chances are I won't answer.
Instead, send me a letter in the mail.
Buy my books ....