A wise man once said, (ok, just joshing...my brother once said, and I'm pretty sure its not even his original thought) that "texting is for teenagers and affairs." Ahh, and how right he is. Teenagers are constantly surrounded by the lurking enemy...adults, teachers, parents or other such daunting figures of authority that in a few short years they will all morph into. They have to guard their privacy with a vengence, shown also by other activities native to the teen; note writing, extreme slang use, and my 90's favorite...pager language. When I was younger and a parent was around we'd just say "elephant" meaning, "I can't talk about it right now."
Adulterers, too, have a careful dance of information that must be performed. And all without the person who is closest to them...has probably folded their underwear, knows the locations of their moles, and can perfectly mimic their sleeping positions...finding out. So silent, erasable, and informative communication is a must.
But why is it that men in their late 20's and well into their 30's chose texting as their main form of communication? Its like it falls in line with the "gaming" fad that has created glorified space invaders as an acceptable adult obsession. I get that you can think out what you say a little better, but otherwise its inefficient and lacks personality...not to mention it lacks inflection, allowing for misunderstandings abound.
So a girl walks into a bar...no, its not a joke. Unless you consider my life a joke (which wouldn't be far from the truth). I'm with a friend, and long story short...a man approaches, starts up a conversation, and a lovely evening ensues. 3 girls, one guy, and a few hours of above average stimulating conversation. Said man (I call him "happy thumbs") inquires in great depth about what girls want, best ways to meet girls, etc. Seems intuitive, polite, and intelligent. At the end of the evening, I got a hug, he got my number. Three days later...heavy texting ensues. 4 hours later, we've had the equivalent of a 15 minute call and I've had to put down my read of the week about 8 bazillion times to type using the phone pad keyboard. Something I have admittedly become AS familiar with as the asdf contraption I'm on now. The next night, things seem to begin in the same direction. This is not my first, or even fourth encounter with this method of relationship growth, or dwarfism as the case may be. I make mention (by text ironically, because I'm not going to be the one to make the call - he got MY number) that I don't favor text as a way to get to know someone. He apologizes, says he's quiet when he's tired, and I graciously offer to accept a call the next evening. Call never comes...but a text does. I try to approach from another, less direct road (now you guys see?! you force us into this chickness!)and answer once shortly and then not again. The next evening, he makes clear that he didn't get the clue. He mentions (in phone shorthand, provided the limited space) that he'll be away for the weekend and call me when he gets back. And he does...wait, no he doesn't. He texts. He continues to text...how his day was, invites to hang out, and intentions to get to know each other better. But seriously...if you can't even reach the point in the relationship that I've already hit with every telemarketer this side of the Mississippi...why would I want to explore that facet of our textlationship...much less hang out. Would I have to text him during dinner to see how he was enjoying his chicken picatta? Would I have to work my thumbs when he was handed the bill to see if I could "give u $ 4 that?"? I have to admit, I don't get it and I don't like it.
So men, the new "opening the door" or "walking her to the stoop" is picking up the phone. Dial...risk that ever looming possibility of the voicemail. Throw caution to the possibility of call waiting or an awkward silence or two. Our expectations are SO low after all the Warcrafters and Dungeon Masters we encounter, that a simple call or two gets your feet firmly in the door.
You and your trophy wife can thank me later...
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