Did Society Peak Right Before the Release of the First iPhone?
Okay, let’s just ask the question out loud: did we, as a society, hit our cultural/societal sweet spot right before the first iPhone dropped in 2007? Because honestly, life in the early-to-mid 2000s was kind of unbeatable. We had T-Mobile Sidekicks flipping dramatically open in homeroom, Myspace Top 8 politics to stress over, Black Eyed Peas blasting through our chunky iPods, and Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie milking cows on The Simple Life. It was chaotic, ridiculous, and, dare I say, simpler. (We’re just going to pretend for sake of conversation that we didn’t start a war with effectively the entirety of the Middle East during that period… our nostalgia glasses are blocking out the existence of George Bush for the rest of this blog.)
Now, fast forward to today, and you’re expected to be reachable 24/7. Texts, DMs, Slack notifications, emails that come through at midnight because “time zones,” and of course, the dreaded “seen” receipts. We went from living our lives and occasionally checking in, to existing in a constant state of digital availability. It’s exhausting, and honestly, it’s making society harder to exist in.
Life Before Smartphones: The Last Era of Freedom
The early 2000s weren’t perfect, but they had a vibe. If you didn’t pick up your Nokia brick or Sidekick, people just assumed you were busy, probably burning CDs, watching TRL, or pretending you knew HTML to pimp out your Myspace layout. No one expected immediate replies. If you didn’t answer a call, the voicemail (likely picked up on an answering machine that would beep until you came home) could wait. If you didn’t return a text, life went on.
Back then, we weren’t drowning in the digital highlight reels of strangers. Instagram wasn’t convincing us that everyone else had better vacations, cleaner apartments, or shinier careers. You weren’t watching your high school lab partner suddenly become a “luxury lifestyle coach” with a suspiciously leased G-Wagon. Sure, there was FOMO, like not getting invited to a house party or missing Laguna Beach when it aired live, but it wasn’t being served up on your screen in 4K, 24/7.
The Smartphone Shift
Then the iPhone came along, and with it, the expectation that we’d be permanently plugged in. At first, it felt revolutionary, your music, internet, email, all in one device. But somewhere between that shiny Apple keynote and now, the cultural vibe shifted. Suddenly, being slow to respond wasn’t acceptable. “Why didn’t you text me back? I saw you reposting TikToks” became a legitimate argument.
Now, we’re conditioned to always be “on.” We scroll before bed, check notifications before brushing our teeth, and answer work messages while waiting in line for coffee. The line between personal time and public availability blurred, and then basically disappeared.
The Dark Side of Always Being Online
The issue isn’t just the phone itself; it’s what it represents: constant access. Friends expect instant replies, coworkers expect you to be reachable, and social media makes sure you never get a real break from comparing yourself to others.
Allow me a moment to BFFR: most of what we see online is smoke and mirrors. Influencers rent Airbnbs for photo shoots, borrow luxury cars for clout, and stage their “casual” coffee runs like a Vogue spread. Even the ones who seem “relatable” are carefully curating their authenticity. We’ve created this culture where people feel inadequate because they don’t have a perfect oat milk latte next to a MacBook in a marble kitchen every morning. Newsflash: neither do the people posting it (more likely than not.)
Meanwhile, the constant notifications keep our brains in survival mode. Dopamine hits from likes, anxiety from group chats blowing up, pressure from work emails creeping into your weekend, it’s nonstop. The very thing that was supposed to connect us is now what’s burning us out.
Why Pre-iPhone Society Was Kind of Perfect
Let’s take a moment to appreciate what life was like pre-smartphone:
You could disappear. A night without your phone meant no one could reach you, and that was fine.
The internet wasn’t a personality. You weren’t expected to brand yourself 24/7 or document your dinner.
Pop culture was communal. We all tuned in at the same time to see Britney Spears on the VMAs or watch Bam Margera do whatever the f*ck he wanted to on the latest episode of Viva la Bam.
Comparisons were limited. Sure, your friend’s Hollister jeans looked better than yours, but you weren’t watching 10,000 influencers with perfect closets flaunt theirs daily.
Life felt lighter. There was mystery, downtime, and room to breathe without digital noise.
Honestly, part of the charm of the early 2000s was that no one’s life was perfectly polished. Our Myspace photos were grainy, our AIM statuses were moody song lyrics, and our Sidekick conversations were full of inside jokes that didn’t need to be archived for public consumption.
The Cost of Constant Connection
Now, people are mentally fried. Burnout isn’t just about work, it’s about life being tethered to a glowing screen at all times. Friendships, relationships, and work dynamics all come with unspoken expectations of immediate responses and updates. We’re not designed to be in constant communication, and it shows. Anxiety, attention spans, and overall happiness have all taken hits since smartphones became the center of our existence.
Truly, the saddest part is that we don’t even get the joy of missing people anymore. Back in the day, you’d go all weekend without seeing or talking to your crush, then run into them at school Monday morning and feel that little spark. Now, you’ve seen their Instagram stories, liked their TikTok, and maybe even commented on their photo, all before first period. There’s no build-up, no space to wonder, no mystery.
So, Did We Peak Pre-iPhone?
Look, society didn’t collapse the second the iPhone dropped… but it did set off a cultural chain reaction that has made modern life way more complicated. Smartphones gave us innovation, sure, but they also stole something: the ability to disconnect without guilt, to live without performance, and to let relationships breathe without constant surveillance.
The early-to-mid 2000s might not have been a golden age for everything, but it was the last time we lived without the pressure of being always online… and that counts for something.
Where Do We Go From Here?
We can’t exactly un-invent the iPhone (to be fair, none of us are giving up Spotify or Google Maps.) But we can reclaim some of what we lost:
Set boundaries. Not every text needs a five-second reply. People can wait.
Take breaks. Leave your phone in another room, or try a few hours completely offline.
Stop comparing. Remember that curated feeds are not real life, no matter how convincing.
Bring back analog fun. Go buy a CD, write in a journal, or host a movie night without everyone scrolling mid-scene.
Because maybe society peaked right before the iPhone, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find balance now. We just have to consciously step away from the constant ping-ping-ping and give ourselves permission to live a little more like it’s 2005.
