I Only Get Text Messages About Pizza, and It Makes Me Very Happy

Brown About Town with Suma Iyer

The SMS has become my purest form of communication. All of my messages are of a single origin. It’s not a parent or a partner, though it’s not-NOT a parent or partner either.

I have reached the point in my life where my text messages are all from Domino’s Pizza, who have, at times, provided me with both the unconditional love of a mother and the moreish companionship of a significant other.

Domino’s has been a steady friend to me for many years now, and their weekly notes offering to come around with some food are a welcome gesture of old-fashioned community goodwill. I also appreciate that Domino’s allows me to set firm boundaries in our friendship by always ending each text with ‘Reply STOP to opt out’.

Nobody else in my life offers me this courtesy. My partner recently messaged for the third time to remind me to organise council pick up for some old furniture, and I tried to reply with ‘STOP’ because I didn’t want to do it and was sick of hearing about it.

That evening, I was informed that I was being both rude and dramatic, which is very typical and extremely boring of them to say, frankly.

I wish that the only messages I ever received were from Domino’s. Sadly, though, I am contactable on other platforms. WhatsApp is a nonsense jungle of family group chats, full of ‘Good Morning’ GIFS and unsound medical advice (if rice and yoghurt cure COVID, why isn’t it listed as an acceptable vaccine substitute?)

It’s not that I don’t try, either.

I send WhatsApp messages to my parents telling them about my week and, frequently, all I get back is a thumbs-up emoji, the most sardonic and cutting of all emojis. There are few more demeaning things than cheering about how you finally found a wet and dry vacuum cleaner for cheap at Aldi, only to be met with a ‘that’s nice dear’ emoji.

It is brutal.

When I hear the WhatsApp tone, I know it’s my family. But when I hear the Facebook Messenger tone, it could be absolutely anyone: a former colleague asking if I’m free for coffee; a uni friend inviting me to her little one’s birthday; the woman who organises Book Club sending through an availability-date poll.

The breadth of human contact that Facebook leaves me open to is a reminder that I have cultivated too many relationships in my life. Maybe it is time for me to text ‘Reply STOP to opt out’ to whoever messages me on Facebook, just to let them know that they are under no obligation to continue communicating with me.

But when I hear a text message tone, it can only mean one thing. My phone has lit up because Domino’s is thinking of me and wants to let me know that it is Pepperoni Day, large pizzas are $7, and would I like it if a person on a moped were to drop one by in 20 minutes or less?

Yes, Domino’s. A million times, yes.