Sitting on the bus manically tapping out a text message like an easily-entertained baboon has about as much appeal as snorting sump oil.
With all the thousands of oral, verbal, physical and electronic avenues of communication available, why anyone would be bothered withering away their thumb tendons on what is roughly a chocolate-bar-sized typing pad (though not as tasty or as easy to use) is completely mystifying. Not to mention the cricked necks, enduring the stupid add-on smiley symbols and messages that go to and fro and take up valuable screen space and rack up in-box access fees. Ask yourself this: how many texts sent are actually worth reading, or in any way life changing? Will Hillary or Obama get one from Capitol Hill that says, "Yr G8t"?
If you don't want to have a conversation with a known chatterbox, fine: ring them when you know they won't be at home and leave a brief message on their machine. Send them an email, write them a note; get a friend to speak to them. SMSing is for suckers who can't spell, sending messages to people who can't read; about events that can't be all that important.