in intimacy, attention is currency
over the past few years, i've been reviewing what attention means. specifically, i am referring to the context within relating to others and building bonds. undivided attention, a hallmark to getting to know someone bit by bit, that which fosters intimacy.
this was without a doubt predicated by the first covid lockdown. isolation reveals more than you'd think. for me, i discerned that covid served as a catalyst to reforming interpersonal relations near and far. covid restrictions opened up as strictly as they closed, but the propensity to have a screen--computer, moreso a smartphone--remained, and it integrated into our bodies, cybernetically.
phantom notifications were joked about once, but i hear about it less as of late, likely due to this becoming a tolerated reflex to have. we reach for phones that aren't there. we feel detached when it's not nearby, agitated even. reflexive screen time appears to be a mix of separation anxiety and coping with that.
we have spent more time than ever on screens, more than the y2k advent of home internet. being tied to a screen was an anomaly if it wasn't in your line of work to do so, or you were a huge world of warcraft enjoyer. even so, screen time was more associated with a timesheet over leisure. for many, home internet was a privilege. face time was taken for granted.
we still very much saw most of the people we communicated with through online channels, i'd think--and if this was not the case, then we sought socializing through other means. this is why smartphones were such a big deal when they were made publicly available. it's a computer you could take with you, everywhere. the people you talk to, and people you have yet to talk to, are accessible at your fingertips.
i empathize with that, really. pre-covid, phone on hand was a way to self-soothe in large crowds (a text to a close friend, a cute animal video, a funny meme). it was a way to draw attention away from an unpleasant thought train. it was a way to connect when feeling disconnected. this has changed little since 2020. it’s just more socially acceptable to do so. a little too much, if you ask me. covid transmogrified a phone screen into a fifth limb. in the path towards reconnection, there's this baudrillard-esque synthesis of handheld device and speaking.
that said, i'm guilty of being on my phone at times. it's happened anywhere from friends, lovers, to even doctors. it's already a trek to be vulnerable. transitioning from platonic intimacy to something deeper is like diving headfirst into a hurricane. it's scary, but you hope for the best in being seen by the other person, without judgement or malice. if my friend is confiding me over something intense, or even telling me about their day, it's my cue to put the phone down. if i'm speaking, i'd hope for the same.
but undivided attention seems to be a scarcity when it's so easy to just... be on your phone. it's so easy to have someone else's attention pulled away by something, or someone, more compelling. it creates an urgency to be infinitely interesting. in turn, it's just as easy to get lost in the pursuit of someone's attention instead of organically receiving it. it almost feels like attention has to be earned, collected, and maintained. attention is currency in a social landscape of algorithms, marketing, and microposts.
actually? i think it's sexy when someone puts their phone down for me. i think it's unsexy that i have to ask for that these days. i get a mix of reactions, depending, when i do ask. sometimes it's a mild embarrassment, as if the person was in the middle of an unconscious tic. other times, it's as if i interrupted something sacramental, or ritual--it's usually a short instagram reel or a text that could, but can't, wait. asking someone if they've brushed their teeth seems less taboo.
it's hard to not be on your phone, though, which is what makes this tricky. everything seems to need an app or a QR code scanned to proceed in a task. screen time isn't just doomscrolling or consuming brainrot; you're likely connecting with your primary care provider over test results during the day and checking if a loved one made it home safe later on, and ordering takeout shortly after with music streaming in a background app.
i hear the phrase "touch grass" a lot when racking up a lethal amount of screen time, but does it include more meaningful communication practices? it already should; i'd say it's implicit. you know what? it's just a matter of communication at the end of the day (who would've thought!). an extra step, if you will. sometimes you, or someone else, need a nudge. the right people will understand. attention isn't as scarce as it seems, and it never was. as long as you're trying, that's what matters.