Three months with the Galaxy Z Fold7: when the honeymoon fades

The first time the Galaxy Z Fold7 slipped into my pocket, it genuinely felt as though I’d fast-forwarded a few months. On a café table it didn’t merely sit there - it almost presented itself: half folded, display lit, like a little sci‑fi notebook waiting for the next scene. Friends leaned in to prod it, the barista asked, “Is that the new Fold?” and for a few days I was that person with the cool phone. The one who gets tagged for tech takes in group chats. The early adopter with the glossy new toy.

Three months on, that same Fold7 is spending a slightly worrying amount of time in a drawer.

And yes - that drawer has regrets in it as well.

When the honeymoon with the Galaxy Z Fold7 starts to crack

At the start, it was pure infatuation. The Fold7 opened with a quiet, pleasing resistance, the way a hardback cover does. The huge inner screen devoured Netflix, sprawling email chains and endless doomscrolling without blinking. I found myself typing with two thumbs on what felt like a tiny tablet, bouncing between apps, dragging and dropping text as if the future had finally turned up in my hands. Commuting felt quicker, waiting rooms felt less dull, and every YouTube rabbit hole was simply easier on the eyes.

But then the little annoyances arrived - one small interruption at a time.

The first culprit was the outer display. Shut, the Fold7 is tall and narrow, like someone pulled a normal phone vertically in Photoshop and forgot to tick “constrain proportions”. Trying to bash out a quick message on that skinny front screen is like doing a routine on a balance beam. Autocorrect has to work for its living, my thumbs keep catching the edges, and I’ve sent more “okays” than “ok” for my liking. One evening, attempting to reply to a basic Slack message while walking, I surrendered, unfolded the phone in the street, and nearly collided with a parked scooter.

Folded, it’s clumsy. Unfolded, it’s brilliant… but only if you can pause and use both hands.

That’s the fundamental contradiction of foldables. In theory they offer the best of both worlds: a phone and a tablet in one. In day-to-day life, the compromise bites from both directions. Closed, you’re left with an oddly shaped handset, unusual heft, and a persistent “please don’t drop me” energy. Open, you get a gorgeous screen that demands your attention, two hands, and often something flat to rest on. The Fold7 keeps asking: “Are you in big‑screen mode now, or not?” After three months, I realised the constant question is tiring in itself. A regular phone doesn’t quiz you like that.

The daily friction nobody shows in the ads

The tiny action that slowly drained the magic was the one you do constantly: opening and closing it. It happens dozens - possibly hundreds - of times a day. At work, over lunch, on the underground, on the sofa. Each time you hunt for the lip with a thumb or fingernail, ease it apart, feel the hinge push back a touch, and watch the centre crease appear like a faint scar. Early on, that motion feels premium and satisfyingly tactile. A few weeks later, it starts to feel like work: a steady drip of effort that a standard flat phone never asks of you.

Before long, you’re bargaining with yourself: “Is this email worth unfolding for?” “Do I really need the big screen just to check Instagram?” It’s a strange conversation to be having with something that costs more than a decent laptop.

There’s a social angle, too, that nobody really flags. Unfolding the Z Fold7 at the dinner table can feel a bit like whipping out a laptop halfway through pudding. It’s large, bright and attention-grabbing even when you’re trying not to make a scene. On public transport, that wide display can feel like an open book for everyone nearby. One afternoon on a packed bus, I was looking over some private documents on the inner screen and noticed the person next to me clearly peering across. I snapped it shut with an awkward half-smile and spent the rest of the journey staring at the lock screen.

The irony is hard to miss: you buy a multitasking machine, then sometimes avoid using its biggest strength in public.

The reasoning behind all of this is brutally simple: convenience wins. Phones succeed because they melt into your habits - out, unlock, use, pocket, forget. The Z Fold7 doesn’t melt into anything. It wants to be noticed, unfolded, and handled in a particular way. That’s enjoyable when you’re on the sofa, charger nearby, Wi‑Fi on. It’s far less enjoyable with one hand holding shopping and the other trying not to drop a €1,800 gadget. As my days got busier, I kept reaching for whatever demanded less of me. A “boring” flat phone began to feel like a relief.

Learning to live with a futuristic object you don’t quite trust

Over time, I fell into a coping strategy: I used the Fold7 in a way that avoided folding as much as possible. Absurd, yes - but true. The outer screen became my default for messages, quick calls and maps. The inner display turned into a “special mode” reserved for long emails, split‑screen tasks, or watching a match. I added a soft case, cleaned it gently each evening, and stopped putting it in pockets with keys or coins. Every splash of water and every speck of grit started to feel like a threat. Having the future in your pocket means babysitting it more than you’d like.

The reality is I was always a little nervous about damaging it - and that anxiety changes your behaviour.

If you’re considering a folding phone, there’s a trap I wish someone had pointed out to me. You’ll say to yourself, “This is it - I’ll use the big screen to work on the move, edit documents, read more, be productive.” It’s an appealing fantasy. Then ordinary life turns up and interrupts. You snatch your phone to reply to three WhatsApp messages while crossing a road. You check a timetable in the rain. You take a scruffy photo at a party. Be honest: nobody restructures their entire day around a handset’s shape. You revert to familiar habits, and the extra capabilities become occasional fireworks rather than everyday tools.

That gap - between imagined usage and real usage - is where irritation starts to build.

At one point a friend asked whether they should move to a foldable, and I surprised myself by pausing for a full five seconds before replying.

“Look,” I finally said, “it’s amazing when you actually use the big screen. But you need to accept that it’s heavier, more fragile, and that sometimes you’ll just be too tired to deal with it.”

• Try a foldable for at least 10–15 minutes in a shop before you buy, deliberately switching between the outer and inner displays.
• Be realistic about how often you sit down to read, watch or work on your phone versus how often you do quick, one‑handed jobs.
• Think about your main phone locations: public transport, the office, bed, the kitchen, outdoors.
• Ask whether you’re comfortable living with a more delicate object that needs extra care and attention.
• Put it alongside a normal flagship at the same price and note what you’d genuinely use every day - not what sounds exciting once a week.

Maybe the future is folding, but the present is still flat

Three months with the Galaxy Z Fold7 left me with a weird blend of respect and weariness. When everything lines up - a quiet hour, a comfortable seat, two free hands - it’s brilliant. Watching a film on that big panel, reading long pieces, editing photos with plenty of space for tools: it all feels properly next‑level. Some evenings I’d open it in bed, lower the brightness, and think, “Yes - this is the pocket computer I always wanted.” Then my alarm would go off at 7 a.m., I’d grab the heavy folded brick from the bedside table, squint at messages on the cramped outer screen and, half asleep, miss my old simple flat phone all over again.

We’ve all had that moment: a gadget looks flawless in reviews and unboxings, then trips over the reality of ordinary days.

More than anything, foldables like the Z Fold7 highlight how stubborn our routines are. Technology can bend, screens can fold, hinges can improve - but our phone habits barely move. Quick checks. One‑handed swipes. Clumsy typing while walking. Late‑night scrolling while lying on your side. The Fold7 excels when you stick to its “ideal use cases”, and quietly irritates you when you don’t. And everyday life rarely offers ideal conditions. Rain happens, hands get messy, bags get cramped, children grab your phone with sticky fingers.

Maybe that’s why my Fold7 keeps rotating between my pocket, my hand and - more often than I expected - that famous drawer.

I don’t believe folding phones are a bad idea. I think they’re an incomplete answer. The Z Fold7 demonstrates that the tech works, that the software can adapt, and that a phone really can double as a tiny tablet. It also shows just how demanding the standard is for something we touch hundreds of times a day without thinking. For some people, the compromises will be an easy price to pay and they’ll never look back. For others, me included, the trade‑off still feels too heavy, too fragile and too needy. The future may well fold - but for now, plenty of us are quietly happiest with a flat, ordinary rectangle that fades into the background rather than constantly asking for attention.

Key point	Detail	Value for the reader
Hidden daily friction	Opening and closing the Fold7 dozens of times a day starts to feel like a chore over time	Helps you predict how the phone will feel after the initial excitement fades
Compromise in both modes	The narrow outer screen and “attention‑hungry” inner display create a constant trade‑off	Lets you see if this compromise matches your real habits
Emotional cost of fragility	Worry about damage changes how and where you feel comfortable using the device	Shows the psychological side of owning an expensive, delicate gadget

FAQ:

• Question 1: Is the Galaxy Z Fold7 good enough to be your only everyday phone?
• Question 2: Does the crease through the centre of the display start to annoy you over time?
• Question 3: Is the Fold7 genuinely more fragile than a typical flagship phone?
• Question 4: Will a foldable actually make me more productive?
• Question 5: Who should realistically avoid buying a folding phone right now?

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