Stop Sending Reels: The Lost Art of Conversation

Thirty different ways to talk to you on my phone /
/ Just as many ways tonight to be alone
– lyrics from “I’ll Be In Touch” by Electric Six

Smartphones and their dazzling array of apps give us virtually endless channels to communicate with others. Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, X, Bluesky, Threads, WhatsApp, email, text — the list goes on. And yet, no one is talking with each other. Today, it feels as if people have lost the ability to string words together in complete sentences in a written format. Even business communications have devolved into bullet-pointed laundry lists peppered with emojis. Or worse, “Watch this video where I talk at you to describe a task.”

But the real kicker is that text-based conversations with friends are rarely that. Modern communication has devolved into an endless procession of reels fired like buckshot at your inbox.

They’re not inviting conversation. They are the conversation. In many cases, there’s no context around why someone sent you a reel — just the expectation that you watch the whole fucking thing. Whether or not there’s a payoff in the punchline or some kernel of information tucked inside is completely up to chance. Rarely does someone say, “Speed up to the 1 minute, 6 -second mark to get to the good shit.” Instead, someone just drops a fat turd of a reel into your lap, silently insisting you watch it.

And it’s not just one or two reels. No. There are typically 30 of them in a row without any sort of context.

Sure, sometimes, a friend sends you a cool song or a new band to explore. Or maybe an instructional video or a clip that’s actually funny. But those are few and far between.

Theorizing the “Why” Behind Sending Reels

Look, I get it. Not everyone has the energy to text a detailed account of their day or what’s going on in their world. In a high-stress, high blood pressure, high cortisol world, the allostatic load that accompanies the weight of everyday life can make it difficult to connect the cortex to the ol’ type-y fingers and make the words happen on the screen.

When your day job consists of crafting digital communication, it can feel daunting to type out what you’re feeling and express it to a friend. Sometimes. the best you can muster is scraping some brain cells together to scroll through social media, watching videos of people you’ve never met before, and consuming content in an appetizer-sized format that tells you a fraction of a larger story.

While scrolling, you may find yourself assaulted by various types of nuance-free content. Spin the doomscroll roulette wheel and you might land on editorial hot takes on the news of the day as interpreted by someone yelling from behind the wheel of a vehicle. Perhaps you’ll be treated to a random history lesson that distills hundreds of years of complexities into an “expert” 30-second synopsis. Maybe you’ll get something that loosely passes as comedy, making “Ow! My Balls!” look as sophisticated as Shakespeare in the Park by comparison. (I say this as someone who howls like an idiot whenever someone gets wailed in the yam bag with a wrecking ball. I laugh hysterically at stories about farting and shitting, too.)

At its most innocent level, sending a reel to someone is a way to let them know you’re thinking of them — even if you don’t have the energy or emotional capacity to have a full-blown conversation right now.

And that’s truly sweet. Unless you’re sending a procession of reels that would take 10-15 minutes to watch in one sitting.

Pebbling vs. Infodumping

This phenomenon of sending people reels or memes is so common it now actually has a name: pebbling. Named for the behaviors of Antarctic penguins, this act involves gifting prospective penguin mates with small pebbles, signaling that they want to build a nest with them. Humans mirror this practice by sending memes, reels, or other digital tokens in lieu of rocks. In humans, it doesn’t necessarily mean you want to shack up with the person you’re sending these things to. However, it has become a common way to say “I’m thinking of you.”

That’s adorable. But we’re not fucking penguins. We have language that allows us to express positive or negative emotions.

And don’t give me shit that “sending reels is a neurodivergent behavior.” While I think it’s possible 1.) be neurodivergent and 2.) send reels as a means of communication, I do not think these two facets universally coincide, across the board. If anything, sending reels incessantly without context is far closer to “vaguebooking” than it is an indicator of neurodivergence.

Some might argue that pebbling is a neurodivergent behavior. On the flip side, so is infodumping. One practice involves nonverbal communication and small gifts — from memes to rocks. The other involves giving a TED Talk-sized deep dive on a topic of interest with someone in an attempt to build a bond. (I’ll fully own being an infodumper. Having a conversation with me is like talking to Dom DeLuise’s character in The End. Trust me, I annoy myself at times. And maybe it’s my own personal preference for highly detailed communication that turns me into a mean old lady yelling at trendy reel peddlers to get off her digital lawn.)

I get the idea that sharing reels or memes with friends as a way to make others laugh or even sprinkle a bite-sized dose of something you’re interested in with the broader group. It’s a healthy acknowledgement that most people might not want to watch an hour-long video about your latest obsession. What tickles your taint might chafe another’s. However, for those who feel compelled to share, sending a short reel tests the waters to see if a friend would like to join you in exploring a new interest.

Pebbling and infodumping are two different shades of neurodivergence. However, the vast majority of people I see engaging in reel pebbling these days might not necessarily be neurodivergent. Rather, this is a new social behavior that people have adopted in recent years — from teens all the way to 40- and 50-somethings. People are rapidly losing the ability to use language to express themselves or add context beyond silently depositing a video in someone’s DMs and exiting stage right.

The Doom Scroll Generation: Why Have Reels Supplanted Conversation?

There are days where it feels like life just threw you in a blender. Not every day is packed with sunshine and unicorn farts. And when you’ve had a shit-turd of a day, it can feel even more exhausting to talk about it. However, subjecting yourself to large quantities of micro-content isn’t going to help. For starters, reels are too short to tell you an immersive story that provides a much-needed escape. Secondly, it’s a temporary band-aid that distracts from processing the events of the day and finding a path out of what’s eating at you.

Studies conducted by various academic institutions in the US and the UK have found that constant exposure to social media and the internet as we know it is contributing to shorter attention spans and reduced memory capacity — essentially, “brain rot.” Similarly, the Mayo Clinic reported that doomscrolling is damaging to your mental health.

I have a theory that doomscrolling and reel-dumping is yet another lingering societal change stemming from the COVID-19 pandemic. During lock down, people didn’t have active social calendars and had countless questions around safety. The internet became the easiest way to collect information to suit up and strategically plan once-common occurrences like going to the grocery store as if it were a game of Risk.

TV and film production ground to a halt during the pandemic, so people looked to YouTube and independent content creators on TikTok as a means of escapist entertainment. In an attempt to connect with others, friends and family who were separated due to social distancing engaged in TikTok challenges, dances, or sent funny reels as both a form of distraction and connection.

But as the pandemic wore on and two weeks became two years, things got dark. People weren’t sharing photos of the banana bread they’d just learned to bake. No one felt like having long-distance family dance-offs. People were scared and angry. Like any reflection of the times, content that was created and shared reflected that fear and rage.

And like many of the other damaging behaviors and societal attitudes that blossomed as a result of the pandemic, the appetite for and rabid consumption of mass amounts of ultra short-form content became a normalized behavior. Although it varies from person to person, it typically takes 66 days — roughly two months — for a new habit to become an ingrained behavior. Lockdowns — and a two-year period where people didn’t have much to do besides work, eat, sleep, and worry — gave people plenty of time to adopt new habits that morphed into common practices.

No. I’m Not Watching the 30 Reels You Sent Me.

One of the things that I took from the pandemic was a stronger awareness of time and how short it is. You only get so many hours in a day and even fewer hours with the people you care about. Your time could end much sooner than you think, making it all the more important to enjoy what you have, while you have it. As a consequence, I hate wasting time.

I didn’t mind the onslaught of no-context communication when it was just memes. They were funny. You could get the joke and have a laugh in the span of under a second. You instantly knew if the humor was your style or not. You didn’t have the hit-or-miss commitment of waiting for the punchline and it (often) being disappointing, as is the case with reels. It was less of a demand of your time. Even if you sent someone five memes in a row, one was bound to land its intended effect and you went about the rest of your day with a smile.

But reels require at least 10-60+ seconds of your time. And whether or not that reel is worth your time isn’t clear until you reach the end. Multiply the time of each reel by 5 or 10 — depending on how many have been mercilessly hurled at your DMs — and you’ve frittered away 10 minutes that you could have spent doing something that truly brings you joy.

I’ll tell you the truth: if a friend sends a reel, 8 times out of 10, I won’t watch it. (Just like I’m sure 8 out of 10 friends don’t read my blog posts. So, we’re even.) If they send me a YouTube clip of a song or a live performance, I’ll watch it. If it’s something from a content creator I’ve seen and enjoyed before, I’ll watch it. If I have some context on what it’s about and it might prompt me to seek out longer-form videos that take me down a more expansive rabbit hole, game on. And especially if someone sends it to me and tells me why they sent it, it’s thoughtful as hell and I make it a point to watch. These are all opportunities to connect with a friend and see something that interests them — whether it’s a new band, new places to travel, or a sliver of a topic that’s piqued their interest.

But if the thumbnail is some dipshit pointing at words on a screen or a compilation of people slipping on ice or choking themselves on gym equipment, I’m skipping it. Ten seconds here or there adds up and if it’s not bringing me joy, knowledge, or an ability to connect meaningfully with others, I have no use for it.

Meaningful Communication and Connection

If reels bring you happiness, good for you! And if they don’t, I strongly encourage you to stop reacting with emojis or polite “lol”s to staunch the flow of them mainlined to your inbox. We have so many different avenues for communication today — and yet we’re not having real conversations with people. Sure, not everything has a “deeper meaning.” But if we don’t use our language skills, we lose them. We already neuter the meaning of words enough as it is, removing the sharp edges from phrases to shape them into something softer that won’t rip the scab off to reveal a raw emotion.

Whether it’s alcohol, drugs, or reels, every day we find new ways to numb ourselves to the world around us. Yes, life is fucking hard. Anyone who denies that is full of shit and trying to sell you an illusion. But when we distract ourselves with too much dumb shit, you turn your brain to mush and can’t figure a way out of the muck.

Hey, I like dumb shit, too. We all need a place to run to when life feels like a hellscape. But pick one or two silly or fun things to get into and cling to them like a life preserver in the ocean. Ultra short-form content like reels will only add to the cacophony of noise in your head and make it more difficult to focus on what really matters to you. And your life and happiness means a helluva lot more than some influencer getting clicks to fund their Starbucks habit.

In Closing

I say this with my entire heart:

To my friends who I text with every day: I love you.

To my friends who I don’t text with every day — but when we do, it always turns into a thought-provoking conversation about life, pop culture, and countless other things: I love you.

And to my friends who send me reels as a means of communication: I’m grateful you think enough of me to send me micro-content, even if it’s not always accompanied by longer conversations I wish we could have. I love you… Just stop sending so many fucking reels.

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Image by Pexels from Pixabay