Last year I decided to throw an endless party for Miley Cyrus’ 18th birthday, so I called up… Last year I decided to throw an endless party for Miley Cyrus’ 18th birthday, so I called up the USA and told them we needed to throw our hands up and move our hips like yeah, even if it was a pretty tough climb. Unfortunately, the planning involved in this breakout really distracted me from my pop-culture updates.

So I hope you’ll forgive me when I say I didn’t know there was going to be a new iPhone. When I finally did hear the news, I thought I could never show my face in upper-middle-class suburbia again. I might as well have said something bad about Whole Foods or forgotten how to pronounce arugula.

I felt left out of the loop. So in honor of the great Steve Jobs, I made myself a promise to reenter the world of those “in the know” by constantly checking my smartphone.

There’s only one drawback to all of this: People keep telling me that I need to participate in conversations. I’ll be sitting at dinner with some friends, looking up the latest Pitt basketball score, and everyone will act like I said that “Harry Potter” was just OK. My table shuns me faster than an Iranian speech at the U.N. Give me a break. I’m just trying to keep up with the times.

This devotion to staying current even ruined a recent birthday party. It was a weekend to remember: Some out-of-towners were present, and gossip was flying around. I remember putting on an extra coat to brace for the changing seasons and making a quick snack before I left. I can vividly recall texting my planned arrival time and forgetting where the house was on my way over. I still feel the cold metal of the door knob against my shaking, frost-bitten hand. After that, however, my memory goes blank.

Seriously, I don’t know what happened. From what I could discern on friends’ social media pages, the following series of events transpired: I entered the party. I sat down on the couch. I took out my phone. I stayed on my phone. I seem to have found an interesting news story. I looked up new apps. I discovered a new game on my phone. I read an old email. I kept looking at my phone. I saw something funny on my phone. I finished the night staring at my phone.

I can’t even come up with a good excuse as to why I can’t say who was there. I seriously just played with my phone. The entire time.

I expect most people have a few nights when they can’t quite remember everything that happened, although I highly doubt theirs were caused by a smartphone obsession.

I guess there comes a time when everyone realizes a big change is needed. Some people have to get out of a relationship, some people need to switch majors, President Barack Obama needs to win an election, etc. But I mean it when I say, I really really don’t want to give up my phone.

I love my smartphone. Who needs friends when you can have Siri? It has the Internet and Angry Birds and even my checking account. If I need a pick-me-up, there’s an app for that. I can find new music and even Tweet at celebrities. I refuse to give up my smartphone. After all, I can’t afford to miss out on all of the pop-culture references that obsessed me in the first place.

So I’ll disregard the interventions and forget about counselors. I know what most people think, but there’s something special about my relationship with my phone. I don’t want to change that. Maybe I won’t be able to hold a normal conversation again, but at least I’ll retain my happiness.

Then again, my phone just told me that Justin Bieber is finally turning 18 in the upcoming year. Fly me to Canada and, wait, does my phone even work in Canada? Oh, no. Well, I guess I don’t need a smartphone, because I just found somebody to love. Baby, baby, baby, never mind what I said about never changing, I got to start planning.

Contact Andrew at [email protected].