Remember that classic movie – You’ve Got Mail where Joe Fox and Kathleen Kelly share this innocent but deep, significant-beyond-their-knowledge “online” fling? It was back in the 90’s so dial-up connections and “you’ve got mail” alerts created a more patient audience than our now-so-accessible-communications.
It’s the dinging that first reminded me of this movie as I lie waiting for his next text. It’s hard to have to wait; it’s intense to stand on the edge of such potential intimacy, or let down. It’s amazing how much power there is a text.
Messaging is where it’s at these days. People don’t like to talk on the phone. They don’t like to hear inflection or pauses. They don’t like to hold something close to their ears (or their hearts, probably).
Messaging on apps, messaging on iPhones, messaging on Tinder, Facebook messenger, shall I go on?
I’m still a bit put-off by this. I’m old school. I mean, I don’t LOVE chatting on the phone but I like a phone call when I’m kinda into the person, friend or otherwise. I’m a Taurus; I’m verbal and visual and earthy (and handsy). I want it all. In-person, preferably.
I’ve been learning to cope with this new wave of texters; I’ve been embracing it actually.
I wasn’t quite sure about the sexting thing though. Texting WHILE playing is a whole new ballgame of coordination.
But I’m getting better.
And coming quicker.
And getting really, really, really good at dirty texts.
The dinging of my iPhone makes me just a little wet now. And I know for at least one man, it fills him, and commands him and gets him there.