4 Birth Months Who Have 47 Unread Texts And Zero Regrets

Some people see 47 unread texts and start apologizing to people who haven't even complained. Others finish their sandwich. Somewhere along the way, they stopped treating every little notification as a summons, and life got considerably nicer. The phone still works. They still love their friends. They just enjoy being temporarily unavailable. In the imaginary group chat of birth months, these four are perfectly happy to catch up later.

1. February

February, you love your friends enough to spend an entire Saturday with them. Following 38 messages about which Saturday, at which restaurant, with which parking situation requires a different kind of devotion. You've contributed your availability. You've voted for noodles. You trust the group to take it from here. There was a time when you would keep chiming in just to prove you were excited, adding another laughing face to a conversation that had already wandered into somebody's neighbor's business. These days, you put the phone down and go do something that interests you. When the plan is settled, you'll be delighted to hear it. You'll arrive with a ridiculous story, remember to ask about the new job, and be wonderful company. There may, however, be a brief explanation of where everyone decided to meet.

2. May

The message says, “What are you doing?” You're eating something delicious straight from the pan, wearing the soft shirt with the questionable little hole in it, and watching a movie you've been looking forward to all week. May, this is an excellent evening. You've finally stopped describing it as “nothing.”

You used to interrupt these small pleasures because being home seemed like a flimsy reason to be unavailable. Surely you could answer one question. Then came another, and suddenly you'd missed the scene that explained the entire plot. Now the phone stays on the counter. Your friends will get a proper answer when you've finished enjoying yourself, without the elaborate apology or invented excuse. Forty-seven unread texts, and you actually know how the movie ends. A lovely arrangement.

3. July

You can hear the difference between someone's ordinary “I'm fine” and the one that deserves a phone call. July, your tenderness has never been in question. For a while, though, you felt you had to keep demonstrating it right up until you fell asleep. One conversation ended and you checked for another person who might need you. Even a peaceful night became an evening of checking in. Now you can tell a friend, “I want to hear the whole story. Let's talk tomorrow,” and mean both parts. You put your phone away after saying goodnight. The next wave of messages can collect while you wash your face and get into bed. Tomorrow, you'll have questions, affection, and the attention you wanted to give them. Tonight, you get to be the person being looked after, even if you're doing the looking after yourself.

4. November

November, your closest friend can sit across from you and get the whole glorious account of a first date, complete with impressions. Everyone else may have to wait. You like having a little time to figure out how you feel before the questions start arriving. Was there chemistry? Will you see them again? What did that last message mean? By the fifth opinion, you can barely remember your own. So you've become more comfortable letting a new experience belong to you for a while. An unread message can stay unread while you take a walk and decide whether you're smiling about the person or just the very good dessert. You'll share when you have something you want to say. For now, there's a private little smile on your face, and you're enjoying it without typing an explanation.