I Don’t Like Talking on the Phone – Don’t Call Me, I’m Not Answering

Let’s get straight to it: I do not like talking on the phone. At all. Not a little. Not sometimes. Not for the right person. Not for “quick calls.” None of it. If you want a response from me, you better text—and even that isn’t guaranteed. Calling me will never make me pick up. I don’t care who you are. You could be mama, daddy, child, sibling, best friend, ex, boss, the government, or Donald Trump himself—I’m not answering. I’m not ignoring you to be rude. I just don’t want to talk.

My phone has been on silent since the day I got it. Notifications, ringtones, vibrations—I don’t hear a thing. Not because I’m out here hiding, but because I don’t need my peace interrupted by ringing and buzzing just because somebody wants my attention right now. That sense of urgency people get when they call you? I don’t feel it. I don’t believe in it. I’m not moved by people trying to reach me. I don’t feel obligated to be available. If I don’t feel like talking, I’m not going to talk. And I don’t owe anybody a conversation just because they dialed my number.

It’s deeper than just preference—it’s almost a full-body resistance. I will put off important things simply because they require a phone call. Scheduling an appointment? I’ll stare at the number for days before making the call. If I can drive to the place and talk in person instead of calling, I’ll do that—no matter how far it is. I’ve literally planned whole errands around avoiding a phone call. It’s not anxiety. It’s not fear. It’s a hard no to the energy that comes with being on the phone. The awkward pauses, the forced small talk, the expectation to perform socially—I want none of it.

People think phone calls are intimate, meaningful, personal. But for me, they feel invasive. Like someone forcing their way into my headspace and demanding my presence, right now, on their terms. I don’t like that. I like to reply when I’m ready, when I have the energy, when my mind is in the right place. And calls don’t give you that option. Calls are disruptive. They don’t wait. They don’t ask permission. They just ring and expect you to drop everything. And I’ve never understood why that’s supposed to be normal.

Texting gives me control. I can process what you’re saying, respond on my time, or not respond at all if I’m not in the mood. That’s not avoidance—it’s boundaries. And the thing is, I’m not a bad communicator. I just don’t communicate how most people expect. If you send me something important, I’ll handle it. But if you call me to “just talk,” we’re already in a standoff. I’ve hung up on people mid-ring before. I’ve stared at a phone ringing while watching TV and felt no urgency to stop what I was doing. That’s how unmoved I am by a phone call.

I know some people find phone calls comforting, easier, more efficient. I respect that. But that’s your way—not mine. And I don’t think enough people accept that communication style is personal. Just because you need a conversation doesn’t mean I need to have one. And just because you’re ready to talk doesn’t mean I’m obligated to listen. My peace is in my silence. My comfort is in my space. And no ringtone is going to pull me out of that.

So yeah, don’t call me. Don’t ask me to call you. Don’t assume I’ll answer just because we’re close. I’m not built that way. If it really matters, text me. If I care enough, I’ll respond. But if I don’t feel like talking, that’s the end of the story. And I’m completely fine with that.