Today I’m going to tell you a true story about love that happened to one of my single friends recently. Let’s call her “Sara” and him “Tex.”
It goes like this:
Sara met Tex while waiting for a taxi on one of the best hair days of the season. After only a few moments of idle how’s-the-weather-chit chat, Tex asked her for her cell phone number. She was thrilled. Finally, someone worth giving it to, and better yet, just three hours later he made contact!
Did u get home ok? His text message read.
Sara waited the standard thirty minutes before eagerly typing back: Yes. u?
Gr8! ttyl, he replied.
Six hundred and two text messages later and the only one she ttyl’d was Clara from the phone company who very kindly offered her a more economical text messaging plan.
Was she not good enough to warrant an actual phone call? Had voice-to-voice communication gone out with the Dramatic Chipmunk of 2007?
Upon receiving his very next text message Sara typed the unthinkable: Call me!
Her phone never rang.
Clearly, Tex was not ready to make that kind of commitment.
Three days later she received a very friendly message from him asking how she was doing. Just as she typed the “g” in gr8! her cell phone slipped out of her hand and fell into a giant rainbow puddle in the middle of one of Manhattan’s busiest intersections. By the time she had a chance to replace it she had exceeded the maximum amount of wait-time between text messages forcing an e-communication break-up and she never heard from Tex again.
In the end, she decided that she was better off without him anyway. After all, it would’ve taken forever to text message wedding vows.
So what’s the moral of the story? There is no moral. This is just another example of how my single friends are always rubbing in how much damn fun it is to be single. Stop complaining! Or one day you’ll wake up in the suburbs knee-deep in your husband’s dirty drawers and covered in baby poop.
Happy Valentine’s Day. Crap. Did I miss it?