You Have Tiny Texticles
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02 Nov 2007 ›
6:15pm
My last entry made me think about how much texting has completely transformed the world of dating. It’s hardly worth mentioning that I think the change has been for the bad. I am all too clear that bitching about it just makes me sound old, whiny and out of touch. It’s a learn-to-love/live-with-it situation, I’m afraid. But here’s the thing men (please allow me to imagine that there are men in the world who actually read this), if you have EVER texted a girl in order to ask her out on a date, then you may as well stay home alone every weekend listening to James Blunt records and brushing your silken hair because you, my friend, are a complete and unequivocal p-u-crooked letter-crooked letter-y. There, I said it.
If you can’t grow a pair and:
a. pick up the phone and let your fingers do the stalking or
b. walk up to her in a bar and offer to buy her a drink or
c. yell at her out the window of your speeding molester-van or
d. ask one of your friends to ask one of her friends to ask her what she thinks
e. poke her on facebook or
f. fax her an artist’s rendering of your package with a “check the box yes or no” note underneath…
then you don’t deserve to enjoy the perks of modern technology. Text sex? Yes (whatever it takes to keep things fresh, Daddy). But for the love of God, please don’t make such a tragically wussified first move.