You know those surveys that come out every now and then about how much time, over a lifetime, we cumulatively spend/waste on getting ready (two years), cooking (three years), watching TV (13 years! I reckon I could top that)? Well, Ms Survey Woman, I would like someone to investigate how much time we spend texting, thinking about texting, analyzing texts, composing texts, texting friends about why someone hasn’t yet texted…I could go on, but you see what I’m getting at?
Consider this a sort of call to arms, we need to try and cut it down - for our own sanity and to prevent repetitive strain in our wrists and thumbs. I spent an hour going through the below text analysis, our next topic, with my friend Pfeiffer. An hour!
How better to discuss analysis than with, well, a bit of analysis? So, Mr Scissors, my hairdresser who I’ve fancied for five years, had been scolding me for my lack of interest in Wimbledon during my last cut and instructed me to watch the semi final. I took this as the perfect opportunity to text him: ‘Guess what I’m watching? x’ Wait. Wait. He’s probably in the middle of a cut, right? He can’t text back straight away…Wait. Bleep. ‘Well done x’. Hoorah! A response. Oh, it’s a bit brief… does have a kiss though. Then, an hour or so later… Bleep! ‘F**king hell…hope you haven’t got a heart condition x’. Me thinking: witty response, witty response??? ‘My heart has served me well thus far, I am suffering from an unsteady drinking hand though x.’ Ooh that was good, even if I do say so myself. Bleep: ‘I knew you had a drinking problem x’. Me: ‘I’ve got a problem keeping my drinks chilled x. Bleep: ‘Drink faster x’. This is exhilarating, I have to say. Flirty? I think so, but I can’t be sure. It’s text tennis! But what’s the next move?
To test the water, I decide to text Mr Scissors again a few days later to check how his weekend was. I thought, heck, why not? FAMOUS LAST WORDS. I was brief: 'Irish Festival. Peckham Rye. What a good do! How was the seaside?' Nada. Nada. Nada. Nada. Cue long, drawn-out analysis: what does it mean? I never did get a response. Is his lack of response due to the fact he was suffering some kind of post-festival death, or just that, gasp, he's just not that into me? Or neither of the above? Guys are pretty crap/sporadic/inconsistent/slack at texting aren't they? And so it goes on.