Call you... maybe

I was driving recently and fiddling with the radio when I heard Michael McDonald's version of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." And one thing immediately popped into my head: long-distance phone calls.

The song always reminds me of the commercials where McDonald sings and talks about being on the road but still wanting to keep in touch with his daughter, which is why he uses a discount long-distance service. (I believe he also did a follow-up commercial featuring his version of "Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing." He really cornered the market on covering songs with "ain't" in the title.)

Before I started writing this, I thought that commercial was a relic of the '90s, like my bowl haircut. Turns out the commercial was from 2003. If you would've told me then that discount long-distance service would be obsolete in a decade, I probably would've mocked you in an away message on Instant Messenger.

But technology marches on, which leads me to a question: What should I do about the contacts on my phone I'm no longer in contact with?

I've been thinking about deleting some numbers from my phone, numbers I probably saved two phones ago. They are 10-digit time capsules, a reminder of old friends and good times.

I know deep down there's little-to-no chance I would ever call these numbers again. And I know some people probably wouldn't have any issues deleting contacts. (I also know many of you now will spend the rest of the day practicing your Michael McDonald impressions. You're welcome.)

Under most circumstances, I'm anti-clutter. But there is something that makes me wistful about erasing a person from my phone, severing that digital tie. Then, there's a recurring nightmare I have:

Bryton McClure: Danny, the nuclear reactor is about to blow! The only person who can deactivate the self-destruction mode is the ex-boyfriend of your former co-worker who you met at a bar one time, the one who sang harmony on your karaoke duet of "Rich Girl." What is his phone number!

Danny: Wait, you look familiar. Are you Little Richie from Family Matters?

Bryton McClure [annoyed]: Yes, that's me. What's that number?

Danny: Little Richie! I always wondered what happened to you! How's Uncle Carl doing?

Bryton McClure [angry]: He's not my uncle! That was just a TV show. THE NUMBER!

Danny: I love how your hair is still a curly mullet! What's your --

[Explosion]

Obviously, something like that will never happen; I always take harmony on "Rich Girl." What almost certainly will happen is I will see that ex-boyfriend of the former co-worker the day after deleting his number. And I'd feel incredibly guilty if I would need to ask for his number, because he probably still has mine saved in his phone, meaning he would know that I deleted his number after he gave it to me.

Then again, these days anyone is a Facebook search or social media outlet away. I could always blame losing a number on switching phones or accidentally pushing the wrong buttons on my phone.

And, wouldn't you know it, the other day I switched phones AND pushed a combination of buttons on my old phone that all of my data was unrecoverable! So, I'm very, very, VERY sorry I don't have your phone number anymore.

Maybe we can catch up soon on Instant Messenger.