Has it really come to this? I know its 2008 and it’s the decade of AIM, MSN Messenger, G-Chat, Treos, BlackBerrys, Bluetooth, Sidekicks and the iPhone, but sex messaging? Really??? Don’t get me wrong…I’m not one to turn down any kind of technology; I mean, I actually think I have an addiction to the internet (i.e. reading PerezHilton.com, checking Facebook and MySpace, etc.) however, where exactly do we draw the line?
Personally, I secretly curse all of this technology. It may seem fucking fantastic that you can check out the MySpace page of the guy you formerly thought you were going to marry – oh, and let’s not forget his new girlfriend. I’m not the only one who looks at the pictures, analyzing everything from her faux tan that’s so NOT the good spray on kind (and I also count down the days until the sun makes her look like a 78 year old piece of leather) to how she wears pink ALL THE FUCKING TIME and how completely obnoxious that is. You may even think that you’re lucky that you’re facebook friends with the guy’s new girlfriend or “whatever” that you spent the summer obsessing over. The same guy that you thought was great because he was actually into dating girls…just not YOU. It’s a curse. All of this technology is a giant mind fuck. I miss the good old days when you called someone’s – GASP – land line. Now, I couldn’t name five people under the age of 30 that even HAVE a land line. If they weren’t there…hey, they have a fucking LIFE and you don’t. You leave a message on their answering machine and they get it when they get it.
My point is this- are we that fucking lazy? Not only are we too lazy to have actual sex but we’re lazy to the point where we don’t even want to use our weekday minutes to have phone sex? So instead, we count in that we have the sweet $4.99 a month deal from AT&T where we get 1500 text messages a month and figure hey…”I have a QWERTY keyboard on my Palm Treo…why not?”
The Ghost is infamous for this. The texts start our innocently enough and then I get “send me a pic of your boobs or a side profile of your body” or he asks “what are you doing” and when I respond “sitting on my bed studying” he replies “ok…start rubbing your tits and get yourself comfortable.” Excuse me? I’m not studying for my mammogram…I’m studying Italian, asshole.
