What type of texter are you?

“She’s probably the most beautiful person I’ve been on a date with,” Ben said. “But she likes to text.”

“So she’s a 10 but she likes texting?” I said, laughing.

Ben grinned. “I hate texting. I’d much rather have a call.” He paused for effect. “No one ever falls in love over text…you fall in love with the person.”

“What about you?” I asked, prompting Michael. “You’re a good texter.”

“I’m a functional texter,” Michael clarified. “Like, when and where are we meeting? Don’t be texting and asking me how I am.”

Up until that point, I hadn’t thought much about the different types of texters, beyond your basic good and bad ones: good texters reply in a timely fashion, bad texters don’t RSVP to your invitations. But of course that doesn’t capture the full spectrum of texters out there: some friends type out everything they did over the weekend, while others respond to “how’s your week?” with a single word.

Then there’s Jack, a good friend who (I think) enjoys catching up and cracking jokes over long text conversations. In fact, I’ll often just end up calling him mid-thread because it’s faster and more efficient than all the back and forth.

Ironically, he once told me the girl he’s dating was bad at texting.

“How bad?” I asked.

“Like she just won’t respond,” he said. “But we’ll talk in person and it’s good…which makes it confusing because I don’t know if she’s into me or not.”

I used to assume that most people would prefer a phone call to texting, like Ben. But when I brought it up with a new church friend, he said, “I actually like texting better. It gives me time to think about what I want to say. On the phone, you can’t see someone’s face—you miss the physical cues that tell you what they really mean.”

While I knew Ben wasn’t the type to give me the play-by-play on his week, he had also surprised me in the past with the occasional meaningful text. That’s the thing about texting—it exposes how differently people communicate and express care. Some do it through quick check-ins or shared memes on Instagram. Others do it through depth and detail. And some, like Ben, save their words until they really mean them…or for a phone call.

My relationship with texting has also evolved over time. Part of being an organizer means I am constantly inviting people to events over text, and in the past I’ve been frustrated when people don’t respond as quickly as I would like. But I’ve learned to be more understanding and forgiving as I’ve gotten older: life gets busy, and messages pile up even for a decent texter like me. Beyond logistics, though, I’ve also used texting to catch-up with friends I don’t see as often. Yes, I would prefer a phone call, but it can be difficult when schedules and life get in the way.

We spend so much of our lives trying to stay in touch through screens—liking, replying, reacting—that I wonder if we sometimes forget what it feels like to be with people. The warmth of sitting across the table, the easy laughter, even the awkward pauses where no one’s sure what to say. Those are the moments that remind you you’re actually there—and they don’t show up on read receipts.

As I think about it, maybe there’s some kind of formula for balancing time spent messaging versus time spent living.

Something like: text enough to stay in touch, but not so much that you forget what it’s like to actually show up.

Because texting, at its best, is a bridge—it keeps friendships alive between the moments you actually get to share life together. But bridges are meant to be crossed, not lived on.

Ben was right in his own way. You don’t fall in love over text—and you don’t build real friendship there either. The things that make people matter—shared time, laughter, trust, presence—don’t exist in bubbles or threads. They happen when you’re side by side, not screen to screen.

So maybe it’s less about being a good texter and more about being someone worth texting afterward.

That’s where relationship grows—not in the messages we send, but in the stories we’ll laugh about afterwards.

---

*Names may or may not have been changed so my friends can feel marginally safer while I mine their lives for content.