Do you want to go out? Meet for a drink? Wouldn’t it be nice to catch up? No, not really, thank you very much.
All of these queries are things I approach with a sense of dread and caution. I love my friends: I adore them. But I hate schlepping across town, crowding into a space and then trying to make conversation. The whole business of socialising feels a bit too much like work.
Besides, few outings could compete with “doing the internet”, those golden moments when, untethered by obligation, domestic chore or husbandry, one can idle hours with only tiny taps. You may clamour about mental health impairment and screen addiction. But give me the T-shirt that says: “I’d rather be zombie scrolling.” Why do something, when nothing calls so loud?
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