How Tone Changed In Texting Culture

📅 May 31, 2026

I remember a friend asking what wrong she’d done me. You put a period at the end of your text, she replied. This was way back in 2020. Apparently – and I didn’t know this until that moment – a period was no longer just a punctuation. It was a message, the text equivalent of slamming a door and driving in the bolt hard. See, I’m the sorta guy that uses semi-colons and quotation marks even in casual DMs. I get irritated with misspelled words and sentences that read like fugitive drivers running reckless, pausing for nothing, obeying absolutely nothing. So, this was new to me.

I did try to change, at least, to seem less upset. Believe me, I really did. I would type a message and instinctively end it with a period, then pause, circle back to edit and finally delete it. It was ridiculous. It was tiring at best, unsettling at worst. In no time, I was like, you know what? Fuck it. I put a stop to that BS, no pun intended.

It’s 2026. I’d be lying if I told you I don’t sometimes hesitate over that same single dot in certain texts to certain people. In fact, more often that I’d like. I find myself in this totally absurd dilemma, wondering if being proper is worth the risk of being misunderstood.

I still want to use my periods. I just don't want everyone to think I'm slamming the door.

__________

There is a difference between Okay, OK, ok, and k.

Okay is simply low energy. It is OK without the edge. It could mean anything from “I get” to “Say less”. Okay is the equivalent of someone nodding. I’d like to think that most times, it is hardly from a place of malice and more from a place of mild fatigue or compliance. It’s mostly used to discourage continuation. You say Okay to people you’re cool with but are likely talking too much or trying to start something again.

Now, OK. You see this OK? It is the alphabetical equivalent of a period, only more vocal. In fact, the capital letters say it all. It is cold. OK is passive-aggressive edging on the side of restraint.

ok is either of two things and is usually done deliberately. The first is mischief, the second, dismissal. In its mischievous form, it is a signal that what was said has been received, but absolutely not respected enough to be dignified with more than a two-letter response. It says, “You aren’t even worth my thumb time”. In its dismissive form, it is almost like sighing and saying, “Next!” I have witnessed grown men lament bitterly over the absence of the capital “O”. I, myself, have also revisited comments and messages, downgrading the Okay to an ok. Nonsense!

And then, there is the declaration of war – k.

You see that k, right? There are laws guiding its deployment, unwritten, but universally understood. A k written in caps lock is not a true k. Too loud. A k written with an exclamation mark is not a true k. Too performative. In fact, a k written immediately after a message it is k’d to, it not a k. Too reactionary. A k is dumped strategically. It is nonchalance, unbothered, and spiteful all in one. I should say here that not all ks are all of this, but I should also say that, personally, I am yet to see a k that wasn’t that, OK?

________

In yet another example of how our standards, however noble, are sometimes bent to cater to the ethos of a world that operates under a perverse, nonsensical set of rules, texting, replies and the time between them proves true.

When I see a message, what do I do? I reply at once (if I can help it). Promptness is a virtue, but more importantly, I just don’t want to forget. But in the rulebook of online etiquette, my efficiency is a red flag. Apparently, replying at once means anything but being reliable. It means I’m eager. It suggests I lack a life and that I am available, which apparently, is a weakness.

There’s this thing I call the Wizkid Philosophy. It’s this belief that value is found in absence (which is technically true, except that sooner or later, we will find out). So, what do you and me do? Simple: play a game of chicken. To prove I am busier, unbothered, and more important than you, I jot the time I sent my message and the time you replied to it, then match that energy. I want to see who can leave the other on “Read” the longest.

Deep in my mind, I no say this thing na complete nonsense, I know this collaboration will work, I know the knowledge I seek is indispensable, I know I need that sale, that referral, that deal, but I’d rather roast than appear desperate. By the time I reply, that genuine spark of connection you felt has dissolved within that three-hour waiting period. In other cases, the moment is gone. Meanwhile, the other person who doesn’t give a shit about these rules, who has placed more emphasis on actually forming words than calculating the ‘correct’ time to hit send, has gotten the job, secured the connection, the referral, the sale, deal, or whatever. Me? I am still busy practicing the Wizkid philosophy, telling myself, Don’t worry. What is not yours is not yours.

We just might be the only species that complicates the simple act of saying I am here out of fear of appearing exactly as we are.

Now, I should mention here that no one owes anyone an immediate response. An ‘active status’ doesn’t necessarily equal engagement. People are actually busy in this life, distracted, sometimes unavailable, even truly uninterested sef. (I, for example, will not be cowed into replying messages that I am in neither the position nor the headspace to reply, and any aggression, active or passive, will only succeed in alienating the response time.) And I will also not dispute the occasional importance of holding back to increase value, or the importance of not overextending oneself to preserve dignity. There’s a very thin line though, and I think this lies in the honesty and the why behind the act, which, apparently, can only be measured by the individual. I remember asking myself the other day, are you protecting your value or you’re just trying to simulate it? I won’t tell you, my answer. You don’t tell me yours.

_________

I personally consider question marks for replies insulting. There’s just something wholly blonde-dumb about that shite. Gives off blank, lost soul energy, you know, like a pornstar in a physics class.

When I say LOL, I’m hardly even smiling. It’s more of me acknowledging attempted humour. If I put the laughing emoji, it means I chuckled at best or half-smiled at worst. The more the emojis, the more likely I actually found it funny. I’ve never used the skull emoji. I’m old school. We grew up with simply typing hahahaha, in caps especially if it was especially hilarious. Never really done the LMFAO cause it didn’t make complete sense what it meant. As for ROTFL, well, let’s just say I’d rather just drop an emoji than type five letters (even though these days, autocorrect has made everything significantly easier).

The one thing I’ll never understand is grief and a crying emoji. Like most, I always considered that laughable, but since the day a righteous mob told me to shut up for attempting to teach people how to grieve, I was like Ok, clowns. Why not add the coffin and grim reaper emoji too to drive home the point?

Shit always looked contrived to me, like filming oneself crying. But these days, it ceases to be as strange as it once was. Yet another way our perspectives have shifted through a constant exposure to such things. I suppose in three years, the world will actively weigh the measure of grief by this.

Since 2021, I have had my WhatsApp “viewed status” turned off. I never reversed that course of action and likely never will. Occasionally, someone would reply to one of my updates and I’ll be genuinely shocked – I’d forgotten they even existed, let alone that they were keeping tabs on my happenings. Not knowing who was reading my stuff freed me from the self-censorship that comes with people assuming every thought you share is secretly about them.

Now, tricks. Once, a friend asked me if he could read a group message by switching off his network first. That seemed like a lot of stress, but I remembered over-analyzing a dot was also a lot of stress. All of us get our own for body.

I did learn a new trick the other day, too. About voice notes. How I could listen to them without appearing like I did! (Apparently this trick has been in existence) How do you do it? Simply forward it and listen from there.

All these strategic bypasses, these silences, these armor plates we wear just to protect our egos from the terrifying vulnerability of a direct conversation. I tire, honestly! And maybe just like me, we’ll all get tired of the theater. Maybe we’ll delete the hidden folders, turn the read receipts back on, type out our full sentences, and leave the periods exactly where they belong: at the end of a thought, not at the close of a relationship.

But until that day comes, me sef no go gree. I shall be right here matching your energy, counting the hours before I hit send, and pretending not to hold my breath.

k?