Dear A&E,

I’m feeling rejected and jealous… of my husband’s phone. It’s the third party in our otherwise happy marriage. He is always on it – at night in bed, at breakfast, when we’re out running errands, at parties. I’ve asked him to put it away but he just says, “It’s work” – and carries on. I feel ignored and ridiculous for trying to compete with a mobile phone. What do I say? 

— Idiotic

Dear Nervous,

We use work as an excuse for everything, don’t we? We say “I’m stressed about work!”, when in fact we are worried about our mothers, our lack of sleep, not having enough sex, our houses falling apart and the rest. Why do we use work? Well, we assume it’s the excuse that makes us untouchable. It’s really hard to argue with the thing that keeps a roof over our heads. On top of this, the pandemic and all the working-from-home shambles, has shredded the boundaries around work and, somehow, the people close to us aren’t allowed to mind. So we stare at our screens, fervently wishing that our spouses and lovers and friends and children and parents would take their focus elsewhere and leave us the hell alone in the darkness, like Gollum in the cave.

Because, like myriad modern Gollums, the phones are now our “Precious”. We are all addicted to our phones and it’s not our fault. Like technological OxyContin, the phones are designed with that intention. Former Google design ethicist Tristan Harris revealed that features on phones like “pull to refresh” were inspired by slot machines. Who hasn’t found themselves scrolling in the loo at a party? Or saying, “Sorry, I’ve got to deal with a work thing” when, really, you’re on Twitter following all the politics? Or muttering, “I just need to deal with this email” while trying to continue your winning Wordle streak? Cunningly designed to masquerade as the engine of meaningful connection, technology is punishing for our human relationships. It’s quite hard to say to someone “Please exist with me in the kitchen” when they have a portal to the universe in their hands.

You are not at all ridiculous, Idiotic. Everybody is currently paying the price for the way the pandemic has put its foot down on the accelerator of virtual life. Virtual reality is one thing, but a virtual marriage? That’s not real. As his connection with his phone deepens, his connection with you loosens and you feel cast adrift. Of course you do. We would imagine you are having sex less often, laughing together less, talking less….

Just because we are all addicted doesn’t make his addiction insignificant. Like all addicts, he needs to feel that there are consequences to the devotion he is giving to his drug of choice. OK, so it’s a phone, not heroin, but there’s no such thing as a free addiction. What you are feeling is very real and painful, and you are worried about it enough to write to someone about it.

Instead of making a speech that is either accusatory or judgemental, tell him explicitly what you feel: that he’s developing a profound relationship with a screen at the expense of a real flesh-and-blood relationship with you. That you love him and want his conversation and his touch and his presence. That you would like some specific times of the day (Dinner? Bed? Sunday mornings?) when you don’t feel like the gooseberry watching him make love to his handset. Don’t go in guns blazing, with, “You are making me feel insignificant,” or “You never pay attention to me.” Try “I’m missing you, is everything OK?” And follow up with “I would love it if we found time to really be together.”

He is bound to be in denial about his phone habit, and vigorously defend the idea that it is having an impact on anything. One of the other illusions of the pandemic-and-technology Bermuda Triangle is the idea that, because we have been in relentlessly close proximity to our partners, we are therefore emotionally close to them. Your problem is everywhere, Idiotic.

So, turn up the connectivity triggers: rifle through your mental rolodex and think of things you used to do together. Put on the old songs that you love and dance around the kitchen. Go to one of those jungle park climbing courses that force you to leave your phones behind. Cook together. Get saucy. Swim. Say it’s an experiment for a month to see if you feel closer and happier without the chilly, every-present digital mistress. One day at a time. Phone free. Hands on.

More from the Midults: 

What readers advised in response to last week’s problem: ‘Should I come clean to my lovely new boyfriend about my experimental and colourful past?’

Emmeline Lucas: ‘Absolutely not. The only things people need to know about are those which might have an impact on the future (like having children) apart from that, leave the past where it is.’

Brenda Carden: ‘Our past is what makes us the person we are. Leave the past in the past and concentrate on the now and the future.’