Delayed reply could be love

‘Do you do this just to p... people off?’’ demanded my irate new friend, ominously. She thrust her cellphone accusingly in my face, like I was Miss Scarlett being confronted in the library with an incriminating, digital candlestick.

Ah. Right. I’d taken a week to message back to her latest text, marking the point in the relationship where it’s clear that ‘‘prompt replies’’ will never feature in its future. Like karaoke, swingers’ clubs and anything involving scroggin and long drops.

See, I’m that friend who takes at least a week to reply to, ‘‘hey how r u?’’

I know this can be controversial.

It causes most people to make that noise my Mum always makes when I drive her anywhere; a furious inhalation of breath through the teeth like she’s started vacuuming her own tongue.

But at this point, I can hear a small-yetcommitted minority of people like me sigh in relief. We are those who model our communication styles on the customer service desk at banks. (We aim to respond to all written correspondence within seven working days, excluding lunch times, public holidays, and weekends.)

And I’m here today to represent us. Well, not formally, I texted around to ask if I could be the official spokesperson, but I haven’t heard back yet. But still, I thought I’d make the case for not being mad at your slow-motion penpals.

See, there is a very good case for letting us reply a week later. Firstly, we don’t do it to annoy you. Actually, sometimes I do it to be a good friend.

This particular girlfriend had just texted me a photo of her cat in the new cardboard plane she’d bought him. My first thought was, ‘‘this is irrelevant, unnecessary and mildly irritating’’. But I didn’t say that, because that’s rude.

So I left it for a week then I sent a GIF, as a more loving way of spraying weedkiller over this straggling strain of conversation and discouraging regrowth. (And eventually it worked.)

Sometimes, we’re taking a long time to reply for entirely unconnected, complicated emotional reasons.

Probably because we’re the sort of people who get burnt out very quickly from the relentlessness of the internet. And by the time you text, we’re so exhausted that the thought of replying feels like calling Mum on Sunday night to help her set up her new wi-fi.

Or maybe we’re just juggling a lot of other complicated emotional problems that are dulling all of our conversational glitter. And, because we’re conscientious people who love you, we want to reply when we have something to contribute to the chat. Not decimate it into a thin grey pulp with our bitterness, like a conversational NutriBullet.

But more importantly, accepting this in us is going to help you feel better too.

The biggest reason you get stroppy over late replies is probably because you feel the need to respond instantly to everything. Not because you want to, but because you feel like you should.

It’s an unpleasant side-effect of the internet era, where every minute taken before responding to something squeezes on your guts like a dodgy yoghurt. But if you let this slide with us, we’ll let it slide with you. And it’ll be like going dairy-free, it’ll cut out that hot bloat of panic you get when your phone pings. It’ll be an easy, breezy, almondmilky new era.

Then both of us can luxuriate in the lactose-free lightness of knowing that reply speed is not indicative of our love. As all real friends know deep down anyway.