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Why Men shouldn't Flirt via SMS
Nobody can deny that men aren't the greatest communicators. Mother Nature obviously forgot to install proper communications software in the masculine brain. Either that or she installed Microsoft. Whatever the case, up until the 20th century it's been manageable. A few well-timed grunts have proved sufficient in most situations, including discussing our feelings and foreplay. Then the short-message service was invented and everything changed.
Like belly dancing, flirting via sms is something no man can be forgiven for taking part in. In both cases it's just not pretty. For one thing, spelling has never really been a priority with us. Once, trying to mix business with pleasure, I sent a flirty SMS to a co-worker. Or so I thought. 'I have a cunning plan,' I texted her, followed by an invitation to sneak out and grab coffee before a meeting. Unfortunately somewhere along the line 'cunning' lost its second 'n' and gained a 't' - and my plan stopped being cunning and started being sexual harassment.
The English language is so rich and diverse. 'Come', for example, is a word with many different meanings. When a potential girlfriend's aunt died, I wondered whether I should go with her to the funeral. It was a simple enough thing to ask but it's amazing how much more, sticky it became when expressed incorrectly. 'I will come if you want me to,' I thought I wrote. Once again I was wrong. With a little help from predictive text, I actually sent, 'I will come in you. U want me to.' I think I may have sounded a little insensitive.
When drunk, men find it difficult to speak, walk properly and differentiate between a urinal and a washbasin - so what makes us think that we can write? Yet time and time again we make the mistake of texting while drinking. It should be a law for men, punishable by a fine and watching reruns of Strictly Come Dancing, that exes' numbers have to be deleted from our phones. Because when drunk, a nostalgic montage of memories set to an A-ha soundtrack tends to happen in the mind. Or at least it does in mine. 'I neva treated you rite, I wanna make your babies,' I sent to an ex after several shots of red heart rum. I regretted it in the morning - but she'd forget about it quickly, wouldn't she? Not really. She showed it to all her friends, her mom and most of the car guards on Long Street. It was put into a Power Point presentation as visual material for speeches on her birthday. Her little brother had it made into a T-shirt.... Let's just say I'm famous.
Size Matters
Don't you think it's great that they can make a phone the size of a credit card? Technology sure has come a long way. Unfortunately our hand-eye coordination hasn't. Long contact lists and tiny buttons can be a real problem. They can mean the difference between sending an 'I love Brazilians' text to Danielle, the flight attendant from Rio de Janeiro, and sending it to Danie, the camp interior decorator. 'Glad you love Brazilians, because I went for one today. I'm as smooth as an Asian 12-year-old,' he replied. It still gives me nightmares.
Well, I have finally learnt my lesson. The girl I currently want to get to know better is laid-back, doesn't expect lengthy SMSes and loves the fact that I'm a guitarist. So I keep it short and simple. 'Sorry I'll be late, was at band practice and broke a G string fingering A minor. Hope you don't mind,' I texted her last night. She couldn't possibly misinterpret that.
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