My messaging habits in 2025: what works, what doesn’t

If you’d told my 20-year-old self that one day I’d be juggling seven chat apps just to keep up with family, work, and friends, I would’ve laughed. Back then, a single SMS thread felt like enough. Yet here I am in 2025, where my phone feels less like a gadget and more like a social life support system. Sometimes it’s a marvel of efficiency. Other times, it feels like playing whack-a-mole with notifications.

Just the other week, a friend I hadn’t seen in years asked me what app I was on so we could catch up. That simple question made me pause and realize how fragmented our digital lives have become. It’s no longer a matter of swapping phone numbers—now it’s about comparing ecosystems. This article is my attempt to finally put that question to rest.

My daily staples

First up: Apple’s Messages. It’s the app I use the most, mainly because it’s baked into every Apple device I own. Messages has that mix of reliability and privacy that makes me trust it. It’s also where family life happens—kids sending quick notes, my wife sharing shopping lists, and friends occasionally dropping in with memes that are at least two years out of date. Just yesterday, my daughter texted me a blurry cat meme with the caption “this is you,” and I couldn’t decide if I should laugh or be mildly offended. 🙀

Then there’s Messenger. Honestly, no one loves Messenger. But it’s still where so many friends and acquaintances live, especially the ones who never bought into the Apple ecosystem. It’s like that one café in town you don’t particularly like but keep going to because everyone else insists on meeting there. Last month, I had a Messenger thread where three people talked over each other so much that I gave up and called one of them directly—it was quicker.

The global heavyweights

WhatsApp is the unavoidable giant. I’ve never liked its design—those early days felt like staring at a beige waiting room—but its popularity is impossible to ignore. More than 2 billion people use it each month, and even airlines send boarding updates there. It’s no longer optional.

Instagram surprised me. What started as a photo-sharing app has morphed into a place where I now get as many DMs as likes. For younger friends, it’s practically their main messaging channel. My kids roll their eyes if I suggest texting instead—they’d rather send a reel and add “thought of you.” It’s a subtle but clear reminder that their digital shorthand is very different from mine.

And TikTok, the reigning champion of short videos, somehow became a chat app too. Friends send me clips “just for a laugh,” but those laughs often spiral into conversations that last an hour. Once, a ten-second cooking hack led to a thirty-minute debate with a friend about whether pineapple belongs on pizza. (For the record: yes. 😂)

Where work gets done

Work is where I draw the line, and for me, that line is Twist. Doist’s asynchronous culture shaped how I communicate professionally. Twist is quieter, calmer, and far more focused than Slack or Teams. Once you’ve worked this way, going back to a flood of real-time notifications feels unbearable. It’s like trading a library for a crowded bar.

That said, I know the rest of the world lives on Slack, Teams, and Discord. They’re powerful tools, but I can’t shake the feeling that they encourage more noise than signal. The “ping” culture just isn’t for me.

The fringe players

Telegram is the nearly mainstream app in my circle. Everyone knows about it, but only a few use it daily. When I do open it, it feels like walking into a clean, empty café—pleasant, but a little too quiet.

Viber, on the other hand, is a cultural juggernaut in Greece. I can’t think of anyone abroad who uses it, but here, it’s everywhere. Even banks rely on it for one-time passwords. Personally, I find it bloated and dated, but it clearly has staying power.

Then there’s Signal. If I could choose one app for everyone to adopt, it would be this. It nails the balance of design, simplicity, and privacy. Every new feature feels carefully considered, not tacked on. Sadly, my contact list there is too short for it to replace the rest.

Enter the AI interns

This is the decade where AI made its way into messaging. Some bots genuinely help—like sorting conversations or summarizing threads. Others feel like overeager interns, spitting out responses that miss the point. Governments are nudging platforms toward interoperability, too, which could mean fewer apps in the future. A man can dream.

Odd ones out

There are always apps that never quite click with me. Some try to reinvent the wheel and end up confusing more than helping. Others are so fleeting that by the time I try them, half my friends have already abandoned ship. I dip in out of curiosity, but they rarely become part of my daily flow.

No article about messaging apps is complete without at least a mention of Google. Their history in messaging is legendary, but not in a good way. They’ve launched and killed so many apps that their graveyard could use its own zip code. I’m sure they’ll spawn a few more soon, though I doubt many people will trust them to last.

And then there’s Snapchat. I’ve never managed to understand it fully. Am I supposed to use it to consume quick video snippets, or to actually message someone and set up a coffee? I suspect my confusion has more to do with age than the app itself, especially given its popularity with younger groups. Still, I always feel like an awkward guest at someone else’s party when I open it.

Wrapping it up

This list barely scratches the surface. New chat apps seem to appear monthly, each promising to “fix” communication. Yet for all their quirks and bloat, the goal remains the same: staying connected. For me, that means apps that respect my privacy, don’t overwhelm me with noise, and ideally, look nice while doing it.

And if someone asks me again, “Which chat app do you use?” I’ll just smile and point them here. Because if I’m going to spend half my waking life in these little bubbles, they’d better feel worth the time.

Which chat app do you use? 🙂